


Too soon

by Bitchimo



Category: Fallout 4
Genre: Angst, Childhood Memories, F/M, Fluff, Mental Instability, Romance, Sexual Content, Slow Build, Spoilers
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-12-07
Updated: 2017-07-24
Packaged: 2018-05-04 21:05:56
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 6
Words: 38,532
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5348495
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Bitchimo/pseuds/Bitchimo
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Just two days after their meeting outside the Bunker where Maxon confronted them both with treason, Danse decides he needs to get his mind cleared. The Sole Survivor happens to be close.</p>
<p>Written from the perspective of the Sole Survivor, who appears as a bit younger and simpler than that of the ideal portrayal in the game.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. A bitter realization

"If you have a moment.. I have something personal I'd like to discuss."

 

I frowned as I looked down from the roof when heard the calm, yet very distressed nature of my former mentor.

A moment he had said. We had plenty of moments now. Alone as we were in the deep waists of the leafless woods right outside his bunker. Where I helped him cover it up with old branches so it could remain undetected. Lifeless, ignoring the two headed, naked elks roaming the desolate plains just a few leagues away. 

"Something wrong?" 

His eyes shot up, a bit surprised by my tone that I just realized to be overly worried. I quickly brought my gaze away, feeling the awkwardness settle in.

Of course something had to be wrong.

He had just turned out to be the very thing he exterminated. After a short paus I once again found myself in the embarrassing situation of having him staring at me from underneath, as if waiting for me to clarify what I meant, or for approval to continue. With one quick jump I made it down, next to him by the door.

"I mean.. Sure. Go ahead."

"I'm sorry." He sighed and stepped closer. I scryed his movement as he silently walked between two stubborn branches.

Seeing him outside his power armor was something out of the ordinary, and I could not help but like the view. And I especially liked to see his hair free for the wind.

Thick--incredibly thick-- and as black as coal.

Danse is after all a very handsome man with just the right dose of mystery behind it. And it is all brought together with a pair of very well matching auburn eyes that seem to drown you whenenver light fall in them.

 

And once again, a familiar tingling numbed my senses.

Shame.

It had barely been a year since he died.

Well, not in real terms, but for me. For me, he had just passed away. In the real world, he had been dead for sixty years.

At the time, before waking up, I had thought Nate to be my one, true love. And with only eighteen earth spins behind us we had gotten married all out of the blue. Mostly to our parents protests. Something we had dismissed at the time, but that I _now_ can understand.

Because what we failed to notice was how young we were. How rash, _stupid_. Nate and I had never seen other people, never travelled outside of Boston. Now, so many years,, Centuries after I could finally relate what my father had warned me against. I could finally understand what I didn't back then. I could understand my father's fears.

The fear if one of us vanished, the other would break.

I almost did. Had it not been for Shaun, I probably would have.

Nate was my best friend, my brother in arms and fellow in crime as we ran from place to place on the farm where I grew up. I can sometimes still hear the rough growl as my grandfather yelled after us when we ran, Nate's arms full of bottles of cider and mine with rhubarb and sugar. There was one place we always ended up-- Our secret base, hideout. We would spend our every moment together there, looking out at the open field from the loft of my dad's barn.

It was the place where we laughed and cried together. Where we shared all our secrets.

And it was the place where we expressed our love for the very first time.

That old barn was our headquarters, where we had played soldiers. Where we had reckoned with other children in different ages. And I was always the General, with my great-great-grandfather's old helmet as the state of office.

He, meaning my old grandpa Fisher, would probably not have approved of the wargames. But it did not stop my father from letting me practice the way of guns. I was actually pretty good. He did not buy me dolls or the like. I trained, like him, and his father before him. As the lone child I became the son that never lived passed six. Just as mom, he had been sick.

Looking back I now understand it was one of the many reasons why my mother and father's life sacked together, before death claimed her. Why they argued about me and my future and about the way I was brought up.

She did not want to stop me from carrying out my dream to become a protector, but she did not wish to see me fight. Her swedish perspective, I gathered. And at some parts, I carried on that thought as I became older.

 _Her patience_ , dad used to say.

It was not about music or books. Even her, the artist and wonderful songbird, hated the still life of a housewife. Seeing as she was to weak she couldn't continue her original dream as a singer. She had, just as I been very independent.

Even as she coughed up blood she kept going.

We used to spend hours in the musicroom, teaching me to sing, dance and play different instruments, when Nate was with his mother in Boston on the weekends. Mom favoured the piano, and I the guitar. We made the greatest combo, even if she mostly pretended that I was as good as Elvis.

 

And when she passed, I found myself back to my fathers side. Music became a horrid practice. A lie. Instead I rode the horses, I took the same amount of responsibility as one of the other workers.

My great-great Grandfather Karl Fisher had been in the second world-war. And the blacks--Negros as most would have called them back then-- he served with had been the few of his best friends in his whole world.

No matter what they said outside of our farms premises, they were friends. No matter their origin, they were brothers.

And that is one of the things I find the most beautiful about this new world. How race, skin colors doesn't matter. White, Asian, German, black. Those terms and illogical thoughts belonged to an incoherent and idiotic society with different rules. The world here, they care.

At least, that is what I thought at first. Because a new kind live with us today. And just as Cortez did when he found the Aztecs, they hate.

 

The "nazism" of this age has truly outgrown into something else. Which brings me to a new question:

Why did I join?

Because I was frightened? Or because it seemed intriguing?

 _Now_ I know I had said yes on a whim. I can still remember the distress of not knowing anything about the new world I now live in. The pain of not knowing why my son had been taken from me.

And after being shown the display of their hatred it was too late to back out. After a while I told myself they had to be the best chance of getting him back. That they--Somehow--had to be the better option.

That I had acted right. Which is totaly fucked up.

Yes, Synths and ghouls constantly attacked me as I walked the streets. It would have anyone confused and think them all dangerous entities that had to be put down. I suppose it was that which made it easier to look past it, and that what made me convince myself that I had done the right thing.

That I had done _right,_  even though I had been so very wrong.

After seeing Hancock, Strong and after getting to know Valentine, I knew I was the one being false to myself.

They are people and they have emotions. Even though Nick is some copy of a police officer from my time. Because in there, in those memories a person lures. He had went through the exact same things as the original Nick. He had grown up with his family.

He had lost his girl.

Just because he's not the original doesn't make his pain any less important.

He --Even if he consideres himelf as a copy--Is real.

Because he feel.

Danse.. He is not quite the same sort of Synth. He is, in all aspect, a human being. Not a machine. Even if he isn't, as Elder Maxon so very colorfully told me just two days ago, given life through the womb of a loving mother.

I do not consider him any different than any other child or grown man.

Shaun even admitted that they pick out those who turnes out to be different. That they, the scientists, appoint their creations different tasks most suited for them.

Does that not mean that they're people too?

Because it sure does look like they are individuals when even they, their creators, can agree to the fact that they hold the posibillity to grow and adapt.

But, oh, no.. No, they "can't".

 

With shuddering breath I felt my fist tense up. Because I had become everything my Father and what his Father had thought as wrong.

And my own child had become as well. 

This time, I had joined the Nazis and become a destroyer. And that made me realize how I dread to see him gone, seeing as Danse is a jew of this time. 

Just as I had been afraid to see Nate gone.

 

The years passed, and former ideals of becoming a soldier at his side was bitterly replaced with the desire for knowledge. I am woman, after all, and according to the recruiters that reality had to kick in sooner or later.

Because according to them, a woman could--no, s _hould_ not fight.

So I went to university instead, batteling with molecules instead of comunists.

While Nate took his military graduation, fulfilling our dream for the both of us.

We wanted to change, wanted to see the world and help.

I wanted to stop cancer from taking someone else important away from me.

Nate loved our new home. He even said that he loved having me all by himself.

But..

While his fantasy of me carrying out my wifely duties bloomed in his mind, my reality died out, as if he unintentionally tried to hold me back. I could never bring myself to tell him that I despised the life we had built up. For while he was out, talking and working with people who shared hobbies I was stuck with other woman who never would understand me. I had nothing to relate with them. They found me barbaric, and I them like idiots.

The only contact with my only friend was through letters and an occasional holotape that always ended way too quickly. I dreaded the life of a housewife, wearing dresses and putting on the makeup. I missed my studying days, where I got to think and could feel challenged. I missed the earthly smells of the stables, of newly cut wood and mud, of the motor oil in the engines. I missed the sound of my father's booming voice and the neighing from the pens.

 

But.. Then he had went to war.

 

And the life I had found boring became frightening.

Because unlike earlier, like the time when my mother had been deathly ill, I couldn't occupy myself with the next choirs like before. It wasn't like I didn't try, it was just that Codsworth made all the housework before I even had the chanse. Even the plants. Instead, I was sitting inside, cooped with the rest of the woman from the same street. Worrying.

Agonised.

The slow days filled with constant worry became weeks that transformed into months. And then, a whole year had passed. I could hardly believe my own pair of eyes as I saw him standing there by our threshold. Thin, broken and worn in his all to large military garb.

He even cried as he saw Shaun, wrapped in a blanket in my arms.

But once he was back, once as things started to settle I noticed how different he was. The pure glee, the light in him had been extinguished. He had went away as the teenage boy I had loved but returned as a deeply troubled man.

Cold. Angry. Wrong.

He never really felt the same. And neither could I expect him to feel the same ever again.

As I now so bitterly can relate, war.. 

War never changes.

But they change _you_.

 

It is an old game, with different courses and players. But the rules are  just the same.

Once again my mind was brought back, as I heard Danse pull up his old dusty jacket closer around himself with a stuttering breath.

It was getting colder. I had to admit my curiosity, for I did not know if snow even exist anymore.

"I really thought this would be easier to talk about. There's so much I wanted to say, but I don't know where to start."

I looked at him and felt the smile I tried to give only fall down. "Take it easy, Danse. Whatever it is, I'll try and help you work through ltt."

His eyes instantly darkened at that. Not through anger, but true and desperate anguish. "I don't know if anything will help me work through it. I've spent my entire life.. Or at least what I perceive as my life.. Following a plan to shape my own future. But since my.." Here he stopped and turned, staring at me. "Since.. _Our_ banishment, I feel lost."

My eyes sunk to the ground, as I still felt the sour mood Elder Maxon had left.

 

_"I'm never going back to the Brotherhood."_

 

His eyes.. They were nearly as white as flashes from thunder when his hand grabbed hard around my wrist.

Younger, and yet, with the title of Elder he remained stubborn and unwilling to open up to new ideas. The irony never failes to fall on me. While others had praises him, I fet disgust whenever I stood in his presence. I know that the mutants are cannibals and undoubtedly would eat me should they be offered a chance, but they were still living creatures. There had to be some who were willing to talk. And when I expressed that concern, he spit at my feet.

It was as if I could not be open about my doubts. And as soon as I tried to confide myself in him about it, he rejected me. I rarely spoke to him outside of missions after that. I would never understand him and he never me in turn.

Now, after the revelation about Danse I know I don't want to go back.

Ever.

Frankly, after seeing the change they want to impose and the leanghts they are about to use I felt like I was right back, as if nothing had changed and as if the warnings the organization I had worked for only repeated the cycle they always told us to prevent. 

All caused through hybris.

Again I was standing underneith with a shaking clipboard, wondering what hell I was about to unleash.

They were bound to fall. And when they did, they would crash, taking the rest with them.

Just as ol' Adolf had coated his words with sweet promises of revenge against those who had betrayed Germany, the Elder keeps promising a new hope for a new synth--Ghoul--And mutant free world. To me, Maxon is just another Hitler, trying to convince that everything he does is for the sake of humanity when all he really do is dictating who has the right to live or not.

But Danse.. It had been his life. It had been his _truth_.

And without that truth, he is lost.

"For the first time since that moment I signed up with the Brotherhood, I don't have all the answers. I don't have a plan." Here, his voice broke as his head fell with a deep nod. "And it scares the hell out of me."

 

I looked at him and grew new courage as I for the first time ever, took the chance to actually touch him, giving a friendly pat on his shoulder.

He is the sort of person that don't not like it, I imagine. I was, at the same level. But back in my day, woman were supposed to use their eyelashes for everything. Woman were accessories, like a belt or a bag. We were expected to look beautiful and to sit quiet in the corner.

Everything that was so opposite me.

The fellow housewives on my street had laughed behind my back as I painted the walls, patched our roof or even washed the car. Growing up as I did, I learned to take care of myself. A still life had never been for me.

It was just as Danse had told me--I was born to be a soldier.

I knew that. I just didn't tell him I knew that.

Because my grandfather's sons, through their anxiety had somewhat always known and through paranoia teached me how to hold a gun, to know that those who claim to have good intentions with war at their backs never really did have good intentions.

"You don't need a plan to live, Danse. It's impossible." I tried to smile again, but felt it fall as I remembered the realization of being thrown into the abyss all to clearly. "I certainly didn't expect to wake up two hundred years into the future."

"Yet you've been able to roll with every punch that's been thrown at you."

As I looked up, I saw him stare at me. 

"I had to." I simply shrugged. It felt.. Uncomfortable, to speak of myself. To feel his his eyes drown me with admiratin.

With mom sick, and Dad in uproar I felt it best if I stayed happy and blissfull. With Nate gone in war, he did not need me sending him worrying letters. I had to appear strong, in case they needed me. Just as Danse now needed me. I had only spit out the information about Nate and Shaun because it had been required when I joined.

Again, I tried to smile. "But for what's it worth, we're here now and with that we can move on."

"Don't you understand?"

He stared at me all of a sudden with low brows and a curled mouth in disgust. "Everything I had, _everything_ I knew is gone. In the span of a few hours, my identity was ripped from me and my world turned upside-down!" He stopped himself and stepped back, taking a shuddering breath. "At least what you had was something angible.. Something _real_."

Then, I saw it.

That rage.

And once again I felt like that helpless girl, in my new house with Nate's hands around my wrists, pushing me against the wall.

 

That time when I had tried to understand, but received bruises in the end.

 

I had allowed it--Because he needed me. 

He never touched me again after that. As if he did not dare to. Even Shaun.. He rarely held him. No matter how much I begged for him to just.. Kiss him goodnight. Reading him stories. Feeding. Nate saw himself as a monster. And no matter what I did, I could never change that.

I knew that he had been through so.. So much. And I was an irritating fly, buzzing out annoying words of comforts too simple to mend the year of torture he had been led through.

Maybe it was therefore I insisted for him to take Shaun in his arms when we ran towards the vault. For him to carry out his fatherly duty. Or was it because I knew that he was so much stronger than I? That if I fell, he would do the right thing? To keep running. 

And now, I saw Danse walk through it.

It become clearer as his voice became lauder when he turned away from me, walking away from the bunker where we stood. 

"Your husband, your son.. They were living, breathing humans who loved you and cared for you. Those sons of bitches who created me couldn't even be bothered to implant memories of having siblings or parents!"

I didn't want to run away this time either.

Even if I dreaded the outcome. 

But then again, Danse was not Nate.

Mustering my courage I let my hands tighten as I walked to him, realizing that his yelling could draw unwanted attention while he kept staring up in the sky as his anger took flight. 

"I don't even know how much of my own past is artificial and how much is real. Can you even imagine that? I started out as nothing, and I've ended up as nothing. And I don't know what the hell to do--"

And then, as he turned we stood a heck of a lot closer than ever before. Me just underneath him with my hands just in front of his chest and his arms still flexed, high in the air with tightened fist only inches from my face that now looked incredibly surprised.

"..About it.." He finished, staring back with wide eyes.

My gaze dove away from his as I brought my hands towards my own chest, a bit embarrassed by feeling him so close. "I'm truly sorry, Danse." I murmured with a head bobbing to the side. "I never realized how deeply this affected you."

"I appreciate that." He breathed in deeply, but let it all out quickly again. "I suppose you are right. Maybe I'm just missing the point. My life's staring over, and I need to come to terms with everything I've lost and everything I've gained." I felt my throat turn a whole lot thicker at that, and a stream of hope filling me up. He could see it on me, I think, for he smiled all of a sudden. " Which includes something important you've made me realize."

Instead his eyes sought out his hand, observing it with a puzzled look. "I don't know if it's friendship.. Or an anomaly in my programming, after all.. I'm not really human." Here his smile became wider as his hand found mine. 

 

"But whatever it is, I can't deny I'm feeling closer to you than anyone else I've ever met."

 

My eyes shot up.

 _I think I feel the same way,_ bounced around in my mind like a rubber ball, throwing itself back and forth across the inner walls of my skull. And I wanted to smile. I wanted to say it.

But could I, in good conscience, _tell_ him that?

And as I saw Shaun before me I felt my eyes squeeze shut. Even if he was the older, I keep seeing his father in him, to a breaking point. They had the same pair of green eyes. How cand I throw away my whole childhood for another man that I barely know?

The simple asnwer is :I can't.

My hand left Danse's grip and I turned towards the door of the Bunker. It was too soon after my husbands death. As I walked away, and inside the first room of I heard him call after me.

 

"Are you in love with me?"

 

I turned, quicker than I'd liked to and stared, with red cheeks. His were as blossom red as mine, and it seemed to crawl down his throat and visible part of his chest. And when he saw it, the embarrassment of what his his accusation had caused both our faces turned even more hot.

In the beginning, I had found him annoying, a bit uptight, but he was still my CEO. My officer, and mentor. But ever since he confided in me, his underling, I had grown respect for him. How could I not? In time, that respect grew to loyalty, fascination. I had told myself that it was why I had refused to join Maxon on the Prydwen. That it was from loyalty.

"This doesn't make any sense.." I could hear him whisper as he huffed for air. "After everything the Brotherhood taught you, how could you be in love with.. With a machine?"

His voice was so full with doubt, and yet, I hinted eager in it.

Did he want me back?

And then I it clicked.

I want him?

And now I realized what it all had been, all along. It has been and fixation from my part. Everywhere I looked and through every action I made, I always ended up going; What would Danse think? 

He had glowed more vivid and bright than any other.

"If you were just a machine, would we be having this conversation?"

He blinked and shyly let his head fall to the side. I had not intended to sound so harsh, and instantly sighed as I felt the guilt burn into me. He did not deserve that sneer. I had been the one putting us in this situation, by admitting to my crime.

"I don't know. I'm not certain what the institute embedded into my brain to handle things like this." Here he finally looked back at me. And again, his eyes were filled with pain. "If I was human, wouldn't this be a hell of a lot easier?"

I knew what he didn't.

That they aren't just hardware, metal and wires.

When I had walked the labs of the Institute, I had seen more than I ever could have hoped from my university days. It was so much more intense, and more advanced than that of an old college laboratory. But that also left me with a deeper insight. Shaun played with forces beyond our wildest imagination. I had never believed in god. Ever. But that was clearly outside the frames of what we were supposed to do. They have proved that they _could_ create life.

'Mankind redefined'.

But is it right?

If they are created, was it not for them to live? They age, did they not? They feel. They are supposed to live. Yet they are contained. And that was why he had run away at some point. That was why Danse didn't remember the Institute. He wanted a normal life. 

He _want_.

And so I walked up to him, took his hand in mine and placed it against his own chest. He stared, doubtful as I sighed with a determined look and squeezed my fingers around his. "You feel that? That's life you feel. Your own, beating heart. You're not a machine, Danse. In fact, you're more human than most people ever could hope to be."

"You don't know how much it means to me to hear you say that."

His usual, stoic and matter-of-fact tune was all blown away. In it, I hinted eager, awe..

And tenderness.

And then, his other hand joined mine, in a tight grip he felt so much closer than before. Even without his power armor, he is tall, and I relatively short. Surprised I saw him lean closer and closer, going back and forth as if a bit uncertain on what I wanted. As if he was asking for permission.

My legs felt like paste. It felt like something out of a soap opera, or an incredibly bad, overly sweet romance novel. And impatient I decided to take my fear of my past and toss it out through an imaginary window. I didn't care if I looked desperate or like a tramp.

 

I could feel the shocked 'oh' turn into a smirk when his barrier of teeth clashed against mine.

 

For a moment we just stood there, with our mouths pressed. And as clishé as it sounds, it was exhilarating, completely incompatible with anything I ever had experienced. I felt like a little girl again, exploring the forbidden depths. But unlike Nate, this was a whole new cave, a whole new forest for me to uncover. It felt refreshing, and not the least as shameful as I first had pictured it to be.

 

But as I turned to end it and let my mouth brake contact I felt him turn my face up again.

..And I felt his knee, carefully go in between mine, spreading my legs a bit further apart.

Danse had no intention to make this sweet and adorable. Feeling a bit shy all of a sudden I peeked opened my eyes to see him, and there it was.

His eyes, incredibly dark.

One does not need to know much to know that look.

Filled with determination, his hand went lower on my back, and I could feel him squeeze my behind. I allowed it. Could not bring myself to part us away. He had lit a fire in me, and it grew with every teasing stroke from his strong hands.

His stubble tickled against my chin, and as I huffed out for air, his tongue took chance to find mine, battling for dominance. He was incredibly eager, and it was infecting me as well, because almost immediately my hands went lower and squeezed his well formed buttox.

He surprised me yet again, as he roughly pushed me back, and I found myself pinned against the Desk's surface, with him above.

And I could feel him _grow_ underneith those tight pair of jeans he now wore instead of his Brotherhood attire.

With a quick motion, my legs hooked behind him as I with a roll of my hips urged him closer. Our lips parted as he fell lower with his mouth muffled against my neck, I could even hear him growl with anticipation, which only made me even more numb in my head. This was all pure instinct and like a dog I panted out my eager for him. His arms left my side as his dusty jacket was shrugged and thrown off somewhere far in the distance behind him.

It was a new eagerness I never had seen from him before, and high from his touch I moaned into his mouth as I could feel his hands squeeze my breasts.

He went up for one quick moment, bringing his white t-shirt above his head. While he struggled to get his arms and head out I flew up to his torso, clawing his back with my short nails as I explored the scars and well adjusted muscles with my tongue. He sunk back a little with a rewarding grunt escaping him as his shirt fell behind him. I continued up, feeling him shiver in delight, and his already hard member throb in pure glee through the thick, tight fabrick of his trousers.

Then I felt his lips against my jawline as his hands fumbled with the collar of my jumpsuit, and later my throat as he pinned me down to the desk again, digging into my waist with his fingers. Like a predator, gnawing, _clawing_.

I could not help but roll my eyes backwards as I felt the tank top brought up a little when his fingers roamed the unknown territory underneath, and found the prize of my already hard nipples.

Filled with confidence to burst, my fingers unknowingly sought his belt, and just as it unbuckled and let my hand reach for his length, I felt cold emerge instead of his hot naked skin against mine.

 

He had withdrawn, with his hair messed hanging in front of his eyes, clothes on the ground and my shirt brought above my navel.

"We shouldn't."

I stilled and stared up in the ceiling as I heard the belt close and felt my heart cringe as his voice, husky but filled with determination became muffled.

"You could still return to the brotherhood. Arthur respects you. He.." He stilled, as if there was more, but then went for his shirt, with his face not even looking back at me. "He adores.. You. You remind him of.."

I silently stepped up from the desk's surface, gathered up my bag that was on the side and walked towards the end of the room.

 

He asked me to turn back to his killers.

He actually wants me to go back.

 

"..Wait."

He let out a deep huff with air as I hard shoved my elbow into his abdomen when he closed his arms around me. And instead of turning to see if he was alright I continued my way towards the door. I just couldn't stop myself, and neither did I wish to give him the chance to see me cry. I didn't think I would, but if there would be a chance I wouldn't allow him to see it. I could not stand the thought of him seeing me weak. I had opened up, for the second time my whole life and he rewarded it with betrayal. Whatever I saw in him was not for me.

"Listen to me."

I spun around and then found myself pinned against the wall with his hands tight around my wrists, next to the door. "Im just thinking ahead for you. You could still be with them. I can't! There's no future with me."

Cold, I stared up at the face I just had realize to adore and now slowly grew to despise. How could I love a man who kept insisting to destroy himself? I had seen it once already. And once was once to much.

Shaun had been the only thing keeping me going. And after the revelation of his whereabouts, of his project, the friendship with everyone that I had found in the Commonwealth had kept me going.

Now.. Now I just felt hollow.

 

I looked up at him, and I could feel a sting in my chest as I saw the panic in his eyes. He never lost his own temper, and I could not help but feel a sort of pride as I had to be the reason behind it. That was not me. I did not want to force anything. It was cold of me, and I wish that I hadn't sounded as cold as I did now.

"The brotherhood wants to dictate who has the right to live or not. No one asks to be born. If someone have the capacity to feel and change, they deserve a chance." I looked up at him, feeling my eyes turn watery, but swallowed it and gave him the most indifferent stare I could use.

"I want you, Danse. Not because you're a synth or human. But because you, are _you_."

He stared, and the hard grip became loose. I think he had expected me to stay, for as I brought my jumpsuits collar high around my throat and picked up my duffbag that had fallen to the floor I could feel his hand seek mine as I passed him. I did not even look at him as I heard him whisper my name when I closed the door.

I walked down the hill as I picked up the gasmask I always had and put it on. I had been too quick, too rushed. We were not ready.

 

It had been too soon.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It sort of spun away on it's own.. What started as a silly rethinker became deeper.
> 
> As you most certainly have noticed, I made my Sole Survivor younger so that I better could relate with her. She's born 2054, and her husband Nate 52.
> 
> Don't get me wrong. I loved the Brotherhood, but they can be such a pain in the ass at times. That was one of the harder things about the game. I never really could decide who I wanted to join, and that left with me with the temptation to just watch the endings on the internet.
> 
> Damn U Bethesda to make me feel like diz.


	2. The ache of betrayal

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A continuation of my one-shot "Too soon" about paladin Danse and the sole Survivor.
> 
> A second part was requested, and since when could I say no to you guys? <3

 Scribe Haylen had to admit herself very pleased over the outcome.

The Elder might have claimed to have had him killed. But Haylen, she  _knew_.  

And her heart, all covored up under layers of worn leather always managed to start pounding proudly in her chest whenever she would read the small text on her private terminal.

 

_Thank you, Haylen._

_-D_

 

It would be smarter to have it erased, but she could not bring herself to do it. She hardly ever spoke to him, and this sign of gratefulness was the last thing she had, if you ignored the few things in his old quarters. She had even snuck in before the Elder had come back and repossessed some of his belongings. Which weren't many. Such as clothes and a few handwritten and unfinished reports. The only thing really personal was that of his handwriting and even that seemed as if it was printed from a computer.

Strict and incredibly linear, with perfect shape and no grammatical mistakes. She sighed as she brought one of the notes to her chest, feeling a little woozy.

He really was the perfect man.

Most would have scoffed and thought his message as a joke. But she knew what an Hardass he could be and therefore sucked up every little compliment thrown her way. Danse was an hardass. But her hardass. 

Well, her secret hardass.

Now while on shore leave she kept herself busy by shifting through a few of the unfinished copies. Most was about missions and truth be told, rather boring. Well, until a new name came up. Many of the sentences had been crossed over and changed. It seemed as if he felt uncertain about the way he evaluated their newest knight. At the end of the pargament she could see that he had been furious, for he had drawn his pen across it so many times that the paper had gotten holes in it.

Paper was a valuable and expensive resource. For him to waste it like this was highly unusual and uncharacteristic.

But then again, the whole situation about her was unusual.

 

She could instantly tell how he changed the day when that vault dweller had helped them fend off the ghouls.

Overrun, they had fallen back, desperate. Rhys wounded, herself so tired that the gun almost dropped from her hand. And then of course Paladin Danse, doing what he did best. Protect. But even he had been drained and was on the verge to fall.

And then, out of the blue one after one fell.

Haylen had felt her mouth dry up when could see the small light of a red dot, going up and down as it scryed the area. The stranger had been hiding from top afar a building, half a league away, lurking. Even Danse had been unable to see her lifesigns beep on his radar.

The moment she and that mutt stepped inside their reinforced gate everyone had almost fallen back as they felt the impact of her aura. Even Danse, who was the toughest man she ever had encountered felt the effect.

Unfortunately for the scribe, she was just as much as an hardass as her superior and even Maxon himself, but she must have had the heart at the right place. Because when Haylen made the effort to pull a joke she played along, even if her tone had been somewhat distant. It only became harder to trace since she carried that old mask with googles.

It seemed to frustrate the Paladin, because he always asked Haylen for more information about her. The scribe did what she could, and told her of their talks and what she thought of her. From what Haylen had understood, she seemed to like the spirit of anonymity, even if she still had the bright blue jumpsuit on. It had become some sort of icon. And when Haylen said that it made her valuable for their cause because of the ability to walk through Diamond city without anyone recognising her, both Danse and Maxon agreed.

She could be invisible.

 

Haylen always thought she looked so unusual from the rest and not only because of her brightly blue jumpsuit with the numbers on her back. Despite having her face covered, you could see yourself in her and a willingness to listen without judging.

 And the scribe did not feel the least of surprise when she heard of her banishment. Danse had been the reason for joining and he would be the reason for quitting. It somewhat made Haylen a bit glad to not know her real face. It would help them both to stay away from the Brotherhood.

Surprised she turned when she heard the clanking of metal. She went up from her bed and opened the door to the hallway, where she spotted troops with knights in their power armors walk through.

"What's happening?" She asked Rhys who she saw come walking with a helmet under his arm.

"Haven't you heard?" He barked with his usual and stoic voice. "The Elder has the whole ship summoned on deck."

Haylen felt her heart stop and went inside, put on her boots and a jacket before running out in the hallway and followed Rhys along. Loads of people had already placed themselves under the small supervision station, where Elder Maxon stood with proctor Quinlan at his side, puffing his glasses higher on the bridge of his nose.

And as the Elder began his speech, she felt the hair on her neck rise.

That was one of the worst smiles she'd ever seen in her whole life. 

 

`~)*(~´

I wish I hadn't said it. 

 

Three days, and she still hasn't come back to the bunker.

Alone, I maintain it, cleaned it up, built a bed and made a weapon station. The soil outside is plenty for me to grow things in. And astonished, as I now prepare my supper made by Sugar bombs and Dandy boy apples I keep looking down in the cooking pot, pondering my new reality.

If I am a machine, why do I need to consume real, existing things such as food? 

Because I think I have to?

Do I think I have to drink? I do sweat. I can even feel pain. Every gunshot, every scar on my body is a reminder of wounds I have received during my time with the Brotherhood.

And I feel..

 

I  _want._

Reality was roughly brought back when I heard the contents of the pot burn. Cursing I spun around after some water and quickly poured it over, saving most of it from turning into coal. It smelled horrible, but I can't waste food like that. Instead I placed myself in the only chair with the plate in my lap.

Just as I was about to take the first spoon, it fell back, when I would remember who had cooked 'till now.

I can't outrightly say that it was the best grub, but it was her food.

And again, I felt the sting of my own words.

I wish I hadn't said it.

She had rushed outside, not crying. Just, blank.  
  
I can't help but feel amazed from how such a small woman can cast such a large shadow behind her.

And how ignorant I can tend to be.

  
I have just thrown away the only good thing given to me in this world.  
  
  
Earlier I had a plan, a weak excuse, I know. But it was all that I got. Even my background has been empty. No relatives, no close ones.

Just Blue. 

And now I'm just as before..

Alone.

I can still remember how lonely the years I was scraping by in the dessert had felt. How sore I had been as I went through all the small holes where I could find treasures. How empty I later came to realize.

How ignorant.

I can still feel the glee from when the caps landed in my small palm and I could return to my hideout, sleeping with a full belly. I still remember how awed I had been as I laid my eyes on Rivet city for the first time.

 

_"Hey, you! Yeaaah, **you**. The one with a chip on his shoulder."_

 

A snort left me as I could remember the encounter with Cutler for the first time. How I had felt the doubt in my gut.

_"Iiii got an oppertunity you'll never be able to refuse!"_

He had been shady, and I, only eighteen, had felt uncertain to share my wealth with a total stranger. The way he stood leaned against my stand with a cigarette in his mouth and with his flat-cap a little crooked on his bony scalp. From how he claimed my space. But, as it so happens I fell for that unforgettable smile with the crooked mouth and incredibly bad teeth.

_"Sticking by that Cutler, compadre? I get it. But be careful. Your casa will be his casa."_

The beggar that I used to give water was probably the reason why I had said yes to his proposal. Because I knew what it was like living on the street, wondering when I could get the next meal. Because I could just as likely end up like him, begging.

Cutler could talk--And as he wiggled his tongue I managed to sell more then double with twice the income. Although, to be fair, I had to share it all with him. No matter, we felt rich.

And we both liked to celebrate on deck, with more dandy apples than I could chew at once. 

_"So, what's ya name?"_

I had looked up, forcing my focus from the food.  
  
_"I don't know. I don't think I have one."_

_"Whaat, come on! Don't give me that crap."_

Astonished I had looked forward.

I didn't have a name.

People had never really asked about it. Just bought what they wanted and been on their way.

Looking back, now afterwards.. It should have been a give-a-way. On me being a synth I mean. But I figured I didn't have one because I had grown up alone.

Cutler had grown a smug smile, but then reached far over the surface of the table, almost rushing down everything. While I had panicked and launched forward, grabbing the plates he had patted me lightly on my shoulder and spoken with an ridiculous accent.

_"Then Iii, lord Cutler, shall grant thee a name."_

I had stared in pure wonder as I felt my cheeks squashed together by his dirty palms.

_"From this day forth, I dub thee 'ser Danse', of the square table!"_

Frowning I had fallen back with the food in my embrace.  _"What kind of name is 'Danse'?"_

He almost fell in laughter and hit his thigh.

_"Because of the way you dance whenever you see Dandy boy apples of course! ..Or what? would you rather be named Dandy?"_

My frown had returned into a stare and then, for the first time in my entire life..

I laughed.

 

I couldn't have asked for anything better.  
  
My first friend. He proved right by me, even if he pulled me into trouble at least half of the time. But just as easily he would get us into a tight squeeze he always managed to get us out. We would celebrate our success on the bridge with beer and other splendors we only could fantasise of.

Cutler though.. He'd spend the caps on girls.

Even introduced some to me. Only one stuck by.

Victoria.

Dark, mysterious and one who knew just how to make a young guy like me feel wanted. Although I was only in my early twenties. Not the best looking, but hey. I weren't the most handsome either. I just felt amazed that she'd want to spend time with me. Didn't take much time before I understood that it was all about sex, and not love.

Cutler tried to introduce me to others, but grew tired from the failure. Too stubborn, I only thought girls to be idiots.

Six years later, when our faces were a common sight and our names known, the Brotherhood walked through town.

 

I remember how I had felt felt completely amazed as I spotted the large metal men from the railing. How amazing their their march was, pampered and beautiful in its rhythmic stance. After a short discussion Cutler and I both agreed that this could be our meal ticket for a better life. I sold my deed, packed everything I had in a sack and made it for the walls.

I had never red a book before, and neither had I heard any warrior stories. The experience of being lined up and getting inspected felt entirely new and frightening. My instructor felt that I was hopeless. My aiming was terrible, and physics not particularly well developed.

Here I laughed as my hand went up to my mouth when I remembered the shorter man poke me right in the gut.

_"Hmm. Tall, but bony."_

It didn't take much more time before he gave up and made me train physical combat instead. I had the length for it. Cutler was completely amazing with a gun, and was sent to become a sniper instead. Unfortunately, since our skills differed so much we were assigned to different teams. While I became appointed to a footsoldier, he became part of the secret police. We'd often meet up at the Prydwen, where we once again could laugh and drink. Poor Cutler couldn't woo as wild though. The Brotherhood looked upon sex between members with an harsh eye.

It didn't really bother me. I was to shy too indulge in it anyway.

 

Cutlers death hit me to the bottom.

 

How could he, him, of all people, fall so low to say yes? And instead of accepting the truth I gave him, he sneered. He liked what he had become. Or maybe he was lost to his new nature. Pulling the trigger.. It went quick.

I stopped smiling.

My whole mind went into the work I was doing, my studies. My old trainer had never looked as surprised as when I had bested him in one armed combat and held him pinned on the floor with my arm around his throat. But as his hand landed on my shoulder he gave me a deep frown instead of the praise I was expecting.

 

_"Never be afraid to take a break."_

 

Now I realize how cold I have grown while I back then realized how naive I'd been. 

 

All that I had, all that I were was with the Brotherhood.

And now, as my true identity came to surface, I have nothing.   
  
All I had was the friendship I had built up with her. She even rejected Maxon's order to return. She had just plain, and simple told him no.   
  
  
That.. Was wrong in my eyes. Again, yes that might be idiotic. And the Institute? Do they know about me? If they would they get their hands on me.. I would loose her again.

Hell! I might already have that.

Because now I knew she was mine to lose.

I felt like my chest was about to lift up when I conftonted her, three days ago. As if I was about to be swallowed by the loud pulse ringing in my ears.

She loves me.

And like the bumbling fool I felt like I had completely lost it. It was something I has ached for months. Whenever we would keep watch I could stare at her as she slept for hours. I remembered how I always felt annoyed by her wearing the mask, and how defiant she had been to keep it on.

It had felt so nice, so real and so painfully good to just touch her. To breathe her in. I wanted to make her mine, right there and then.

The blustering feelings of our age difference was all blown away. In real terms we might be the same age, if I never had a childhood. I might even be younger.

I could still remember the aching feeling of her hands on my back and the way she had breathed as I could feel the taste of her skin. The words rushing through my head.

_She loves me! She loves **me**!_

This was nothing compared to what I had felt when I was with Victoria. I feel more open and stronger. But she is--was my underling and I don't want to take advantage of her like that. The Brotherhood keep strict rules on fraternization. I have only felt tempted to break the rules once. Why I couldn't figure.

 

She is annoying, a bit reserved and hard to understand. Despite knowing her for so long I still have a hard time to figure her out. Frankly, I didn't know anything about her before she told Maxon of her reason for joining. And I could not help but feel a slight discomfort because of that. Back then she didn't seem to care about our standards, our rules. It was all part of a selfish reason to get her vengeance. Before I even could say anything she had seen the disapproval in my eyes.

_"I'm not sorry."_

I didn't expect her to be I just..

She had been married. And I felt a little jealous of the man she had used to love.   
  
At that moment I had stopped in my tracks.  
  
I hardly even knew the woman. I hadn't even seen her real face, just the empty and flat toned glass of her mask.

I sighed with a chuckle as my hand find my head. 

She is so infuriatingly stubborn. She always make me feel like I'm completely out of control. There's never room for my leadership when we go on our missions. She knows exactly how to handle everything and anyone walking in front of our path. Why she even bothered to have me along confuses me.

In time that irritation grew to admiration, when she saved my hide from the end of a supermutants board.

_"Heads down, Paladin!"_

She had flown far, at least two meters. With a structure such as hers she would not be able to take that amount of damage from such heights. But she managed to flip in the air, made a roll on her back, went up on her knees and pointed her rifle right at the green faced creature who only where a few meters away. The moment the head blew off was one of the most astounding thing I've ever seen during my time on the field. While I had stared, she had only given me a thumbs up and fled the scene, making it to higher ground.

I have seen plenty people come and go by this point. Smart, stupid and even heroic. But none like her. And I can't categorize her.

She saved me more times then I could count. It wasn't really that strange, now that I look back. I became sloppy from watching her. Her forte was that of sniping, but at close range she was completely useless. Which happened to be my area of expertise. It became a sort of silent agreement, I continued to stay at the front and I could trust her to have my back.

Until I managed to lose sight of her.

Slammed, against the wall several times before she sacked together in its palm.

I heard her voice in my head.

 

_"I'd never do that to you, Danse. You're important to me."_

 

I had never felt rage like that before. Or at least not for a very, very long time. It was like going through the whole play with Cutler again. It felt as if fear sawed me through. Roaring I had assaulted the two of them on my own, with only one gun and my fist to fend them off. She fell out of its hand, lifeless bleeding on the ground.

I didn't want to lose anyone else because I was to late. Because I'm too weak.

Because of those mutants.

She managed a few steps before she fell to her knee. Despite her protests I hoisted her up, and she caught my face, cracking a forced laughter under her helmet.

 

_"Heads down, Paladin."_

 

The fear, of suddenly feeling left in the world was very similar to what I feel now.

But this had been self inflicted.

Now I curse the fact that Haylen had warned me in that message she sent to me as I watched the bombs in the glowing sea.

_"Danse, you need to get out of there. They think you're a synth."_

As Haylen spun her tale, I began to see more and more that what she did say was the entire truth. I could go for days at a time without eating. I rarely need to be patched up. I had never been sick, as far as I could remember. 

And I can't, no matter how hard I try, sleep.

The control I thought I had was taken away from me. Everything I thought was mine, had been a lie. The whole joke only became more cruel as the Elder sent my friend, the woman he knew I adored to finish me.

It was a test. I could see that. A test to see if she truly valued our ways.

I had been ready, bent to my knee and awaited for her to take the shot. She had thrown her rifle to the ground. An old thing, not standard Brotherhood issue, and clearly pre war. I have often nagged on her that getting sentimental about weapons could be your doom. But then again, she carries my old laser rifle too.

But the point of it all was that I didn't want to be the reason for her execution. If I had to, I would blow my own head off to keep her alive.

 

_"Don't make me loose you, too."_

 

If I hadn't come to the Commonwealth, if I hadn't met her.. Would I still be with the Brotherhood? Would I still go on, in my distant everyday and feel cold?

She always seem so patient. Outside and on the battlefield. Calm, like there is nothing in this world she cannot handle. And she listens. After our first real talk, I felt lighter. The simple pleasure of being in her company left me incredibly aware of the silence that filled my new home. 

I love her.

And I had shoved her off. Because of what Arthur had said, right before we visited the glowing sea for a second time.

_"She's impressive. I can see why you like her."_

I hadn't been able but to stare at that.   
  
Maxon.. Admires her?   
  
_"I'm sure she will live up to your expectations."_  I had said, a bit dreary as I looked after her walk up the stairs.

He had smiled. _"She already has."_

 

I know disappointment and hurt when I see it. Even if I'm bad at handling it. Arthur had hopes in her. Just as I had hopes in her. She could've gone far within our ranks. Charismatic, strong and independent. She doesn't need a power armor to show her might on the battlefield. And I had stepped back, because of Arthur. Because of his infatuation.

_"Are you interested in her?"_

I had stared. I was, but I didn't know if she felt the same.  
  
I couldn't. We were mentor and apprentice. He had seen my flush and nodded.

 

_"Ah, well. It's not really up to you in the end."_

 

Before I even had realized it the plate had crashed against the floor, and my hands had fallen to my head as I silently screamed out my frustration. 

This isn't me. I don't regret a single choice.

 

I miss her. So terribly much.

I wish I hadn't said it.

 

~*~

 

_"Now baby, listen baby, don't you treat me this way--'cause I'll be back on my feet some day"_

 

The song continued on, with one of the back singers hassling poor Ray Charles who didn't contribute. I had stumbled on the mixed tape by chance in an old ruin some time ago, and cheerfully I listened the crap out of it. There were all sort of classics, even some Elvis and Peggy Lee. I gave a way a chuckle.  
  
My mother would have loved it.

Mom had been fanatic about jazz. Me? I found it slow. I wanted blues. The real, deep and heart throbbing blues with the aching of the guitar strings making every hair on my arms raise. With a base making your chest rumble.

The true and spot on words that makes you shiver from raw delight.

The lyrics had glued itself stuck in my head, and whenever I am on the open road with no buildings close by I will silently mimic the words and enjoy the distraction.

Because I'm bored.

So. Very.  _Bored_.

I miss cars, trains. Airplanes.

Here I stopped and sniffed my armpit.

And.. Ugh. Of course, real showers.

But as much as I hate to admit it-- I miss the ease a conversation would bring. How I could have stood out with Danse for so long surprised even me, who love to talk ears off. But, the silence with him had been rather pleasant, and made me feel safe.

Here, on the road with no one to watch my back again.. I wish I hadn't been so stubborn.

Danse had through his good intentions hurt me, and from that pain I had acted foolish. I might believe myself capable to take care of myself, but with the Brotherhood, and with the Institute escalating in boldness they bring in civilian lifes into their fights.

 

Finally I could see the large sign of Sanctuary from afar. With a grunt I let the duffbag fall to the ground and then shook my tired and cold fingers that had become sore.

Sanctuary had been home once. Now, it is the base of the minutemen. I usually avoid going back there and not only because of the obvious reason.  
  
First, it had been home once. Now it was just the empty shell of a time I had despised.

And now longed for.

Second, Preston constantly nag for me to take the mantle as their leader. I don't need the responsibility of more lives. He has been rather upset, but I haven't heard more of it.

I probably should count myself lucky that I still have a place back in there. It was probably thanks to Codsworth babbling, non-existing mouth. Preston knows a whole lot about me, while I know nearly nothing of him. And that irritates the hell out of me.

_Fucking Codsworth._

I instantly smacked myself in the head.

I adore Codsworth. He was just thinking out for me.

 

_"You could still return to the brotherhood."_

 

My eyes went around, analyzing the area before I pulled my mask off with one hand, and reached down with the other. 

Men. They think they knew  _everything_.

My hand went up from the bag strapped on my leg with the desired prize. I picked one up, after careful consideration lit it. A long trail of smoke vent out of my nose as I fell back into thought.

 

Danse has been disgusted with my habit, but truth is I just recently started. It's a thing to take me closer to home, I think. Or something to make me feel alive. I don't really know. I can sometimes still feel the urge to vomit from when I and Nate had tried one of Grandpas big fat cigars in his old study.

He had found us, just as we was about to lit it. But instead of scolding and shouting like dad or even mom would have done he just leaned on the counter with his arms folded across his chest.

_"Well? Go on."_

A bit hesitant Nate and I exchanged expressions. We had been caught. My friend merely shook his head in fear while I let the match meet the end and took a long breath with the heavy smoke. I had almost dropped it when I felt my head spin and my gut protest.

I could by this point tell that the cigar, and not his stern look would be the actual punishment. Grandpa had gasped for air with his wheezy laugh as he went up from the old counter, shaking his head. He then grabbed the thing and gave me a pat on my bum. Not hard to make me cry, but hard enough to make me know that I was in trouble.

_"I won't tell your mother. But promise never to do something as reckless ever again."_

I instantly felt the warmth over my cheeks as I remember the old man. He still were a boy in his head. One who had done dumb things in his youth. I always felt wiser from listening to him. About his grandfathers exploits and how he heroically lived through operation Torch. It was a bit different than from what I liked, the battle and honour I took it all for. Grandpa had given me a look that I never would forget while patting my head. It was incredibly deep and somber.

_"The wars you read about in your novels, and the real wars are two separate things I'm afraid."_

I could still remember the way his thick and swollen fingers would glide along my curls.

_"You should be happy to be a girl. You will never see the battlefield."_

I didn't tell him, but I had felt a bit put off when he said that. He, my own grandfather that always inspired me  made me feel bad over my own gender. He didn't mean it like that of course. We were treated as equals at home.

 

But when I saw Nate after his return, and when I felt his hands around my throat in our own bed I finally understood what he meant.

When his eyes had been bloodshot, and he still could hear the bombs fall, despite the only sound made was caused from my lungs screaming for air.

 

_" **Quiet**! You have to be quiet!"_

 

This is what war turn innocent and pure people into. The man that now possessed me was not the loving caring boy that I had sworn to love for eternity, but the result of torture. And the love I had felt when we married left. Slowly, sipping.

And suddenly, I remembered another promise I now had broken.

_"Having a bond with someone then losing them.. It changes you."_

_"I don't want to go through that again."_

 

The cigarette fell from my hand as I caught my head, feeling the guilt march hard in my chest. I could see his smile n front of me from the moment  when I had told him how he could trust me to never put him through such a thing. I had promised never to make him feel alone again.

Because I care too much. Hell, I'll admit it. 

   
I love him.

 

I left him. Just because I was angry. Like a kid I had rushed outside without taking a moment to listen.

Selfish.

I looked up at the sign of Sanctuary and pulled on my mask as I killed the cigarette with a well aimed stomp from my heel.

Can't leave you now. I made a promise.

 

Just as I turned and walked a few steps I stopped when I heard the familiar noise of a laser gun, powering up. A slow suction-like sound.

And as I felt the burn in my back I couldn't do anything but suck up my breath in surprise.

_  
Danse._

I need to apologize! I'll be damned if I die before that.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know I tend to drag it out, but since I made a long background check on the sole survivor, I felt it important to evaluate Danse past as well. Much is non canon, and I might have mixed around with his age and involved other characters.
> 
> I think he would be at least in his early forties in the game. There's absolutely nothing wrong with that but I realize the Sole Survivor and Danse would feel it to be awkward if they had such a difference in age. I made him around thirty instead, imagining that he took Cutler's death hard and through that devoted himself a bit further than most, resulting in an early promotion. It might also be the reason why he's so shy.
> 
> Fact is that Danse have a problem to sleep and a constant nagging pain in his head, according to one of the terminals on board the Prydwen.
> 
> I have a hard time thinking that delicious man meat would be a virgin, even if he is a synth. He must have been with the Brotherhood for a long time, and some time somewhere else before that.
> 
> Poor Dansy likes dandy apples in diz fic! I couldn't name him Dandy, of course. But the description of a dandy is quite fitting, since Danse unknowingly masqueraded as a synth-killing maniac with a brotherhood boner.
> 
> ....I'M NOT SORRY! *runs away*


	3. Once upon a time

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The third part of "Too Soon" where we get to meet the most efficient detective of all time, Nick Valentine!

 

_"--A few key personnel left? Or been forced out of the organization? I'm usually not one to speculate. But.. If this is true, could it signal changes in the Brotherhoods course of action?_

_All you can do is stay tuned--"_

 

"General?"

Preston jumped high in his seat as he heard the bit insecure voice echo somewhere in the distance. He looked up with an irritated frown from his desk and quickly put the headphones as well as the microphone to the side.

Too busy with all the harassment from the Brotherhood of steel and the Institute alike left him incredibly tipsy on his feet. He didn't shy to think that war was riding on the horizon. Especially now, when they were so close.

 

He had been forced to send large numbers of foot soldiers to many of the settlements. Recruitment has been easier thanks to his friends involvement, but she wasn't their General. Instead he had been forced to take up the mantle. But he had hardly had any time to sleep now that the Brotherhood was hanging about just outside Sanctuary's gates.

And so he had returned from the Castle and the safety of her walls to see what has been going on with his own pair of eyes.

"There's a.. Synth waiting for you outside."

It took the newly appointed General a few moments before he realized of whom the woman before him spoke off. "Ah, yes." He said as he stepped up from his desk. "Let him in."

 

The Detective gave a long nod as he stepped over the threshold. A young woman in her early thirties was at his side. She wore a simple green dress and had her dark brown hair brought back in a fashionable bun. Preston had just put on his hat, but raised it in greeting.

"Good to see you."

"Likewise, General." Nick winked as he took his hand in his. "And might I introduce my secretary and business partner, Ellie Perkins."

The woman let her hand be taken by Preston who chivalry bowed and gave a knightly kiss. "A pleasure, madam."

She blushed and nodded as she shyly let her eyes wenture to the side. "Thank you."

After going through the usual and obligatory pleasantries, such as asking of the other's health and making a quick notion on the weather, Preston grew a rather grim look and offered his two guests to sit in the red three-seated sofa in the corner right next to the door.

"Now, onto business. I assume you know why I called you here?"

Nick gave a deep nod. "And you're absolutely sure?"

"Positive." Preston said as he turned around and went to the other room, where they kept most documentation. _"Write everything down. It might come in handy one day."_ A friend had told him long ago.

A friend who now needed him.

  
There was a reason why the Brotherhood stayed outside their gates.

 

"Did they trouble you?" He asked as he returned with a linen wrapped item in hand.

"They were about too." The detective shrugged, seeing as he already understood whom Preston had meant. "Had it not been for Ellie here they probably would have blown my head off."

"What did you do?" Preston asked curiously as he looked to the side, at the woman who blushed even harder.

"I.. I pretended he was my droid." 

"And they bought it?"

"I sure hope so!"

"Don't be so modest, Ellie. You're a natural." Nick winked and nudged his assistant shoulder with his own.

"Still quite the achievement." Preston countered at the other end of the room. "The Brotherhood isn't as easily fooled as you might think. They keep tabs on anyone they see out there now-a-days."

"Don't worry, I am a master of disguise." The synth laughed while Preston raised his brow. "You'd be shocked how many people I've managed to convince I'm just a really sick Ghoul."

This time Preston couldn't help smirking while Ellie drew a worried sigh and smacked the synth in the back of his head with her hand. "Really! Sir!"

Nick apologized to his assistant before he too grew a dark expression. "But.. _Why_ are they outside Sanctuary?"

The General's head looked to the side and stared through one of the glass-lacking windows.

 

Why indeed.

Preston could only think of one reason.

But she had not been back to Sanctuary for months.

To busy to find out about her child, he figured.

 

He had pretty convincing proof why they would be here, out of all places. One of them was resting in his palms.

He uncladded the handle, tilting it sideways as he observed it's shape. Worn, old oak, with a message deeply and presumably freshly carved in the end of it's base. One he repeatedly has red over, and over again.

 

NEVER FORGET.

 

Never forget. That was a promise of vengeance. And the one who had woved it was now in trouble. One who continuously had sacrificed her own hunt for him and those around again, and again.

She was a woman with nerves of steel. Cold, calculating.

Awaiting. 

Selfish by the first glance.

But judging from the compliments people spread about her he had been right in his predicament all along.

She was exactly what the Commonwealth needed.

.. What he needed.

 

_"Don't give me that destiny bulshit."_

 

At the time he had snapped and almost hit her right across her face for speaking in such manner to his friend. She just had taken down a freaking deathclaw with her own hands.

Sure, she'd been inside a power armor.

But when it came for him and when her minigun had been out of ammo she had not hesitated for one moment before throwing herself in it's path. She had not hesitated when he screamed for her help.

To him, she was everything. The reason he still stood on his two legs. The reason why the minuitment was brought back. She was the reason why he dared to believe in humanity again.

 

Now that Codsworth had spilled the beans he realized it might have been to fresh for her. Hearing that losing her son was part of her journey. That it was part of some great adventure.

It had stabbed her, right in the heart. And unknowingly Mama Murphy's good intention only turned the knife further. To his friend this was nothing like a grand event, no riches or glory waiting by the end. It was cold and unjust.

And he had realized it might have been selfish to ask her for more.

 

But they had managed to establish a whole lot more of settlements in this last year than when under his former command. People actually started to believe again, and with it recruitment has been easier. He had been able to station at least one squad each in every settlement, keeping raiders and thieves away. That boosted morale.

New villages were constantly popping up all over Boston and they had even been able to produce more things besides food. Leather, paper, and cloth--Invaluable for trade which then brought enough money to the Castle that was their new headquarters and base of operations. Every settlement gave away a tenth of what they earned and in turn they received protection and materials. A fair deal. And shouldn't they afford it it was postponed until they did.

Such a simple idea, really. But it worked.

With Nick he had a chance to pay back what he owned. He would save his friend.

 

The two guests grew discouraged looks as they saw the broken rifle, parted in two, land on the old coffee-table in front of them.

 

 `~)*(~´

 

I have never considered myself as a patient man.

 

And unfortunately, as much as it pains me to admit it, it has everything to do with my upbringing. As you might understand, growing up without the schooling about restrictions I was led to believe that I could do anything I wanted. And I really mean anything.

There was nothing we could not do. And that sort of hybris leads us to believe that no matter what obstacle standing in our way have to give passage sooner or later. Some find that as immature. But if you think more deeply about it, is it not that ideology that has led us so far?  Is it not thanks to that way of thinking that we've come so far where others would have failed?

Yes, I have never been one to handle failure with dignity. A downside. But there should not be any room for remorse and what ifs. Results are what's important. And from that style of thinking we've been able to survive down in this deep asylum. Maybe that is why I most of all absolutely hate nostalgia. Maybe that is why despise talks of infatuation, feelings.

If anything, 'feelings' only stops us from progressing.

But even I have to consult myself in it now. After all, look at what I'm producing right at this moment. That if anything is the product of sentimentality. Then you might ask, why would I create this? Out of, as I stated earlier, sentimentality? Or perhaps so that I can, to some extent, get what I never had?

No. None of those things. It's simply because I will not be living to see the end result of my project. What I was born to do.

My destiny, if you will.

 

So let us start with the beginning : Once I was seven years old. My caretakers taught me one thing, and one thing only--I was special. And our organization, important.

_"Everything you see here is part of you. We all exist thanks to you."_

Little did I know what he meant as he poked me right at my chest where my heart was located. That he literally meant _me_.

While all the other children returned to their parents homes I went back to my own apartment. Where I lived without the suffocating love from a mother or father. And I felt alright with that. For while the other children appeared as weak and soft, I was special.

Always special.

I took that as something positive, and how could I not? The bubble we lived inside all anointed me as the true and pure. But I will admit, my thoughts sometimes did wander.

_"Do I have a family like all the others?"_

I remember as my predecessor gently put his hand on my head. How he had smiled, if a bit distant, as he gestured over the fields of contained grass and streams of water.

_"We are all family."_

It never really did sate my curiosity, but after a while I accepted it and through encouragement dived deeper into my studies.

As I earlier explained, I felt extreme pride and love for the attention showered on me. There was nothing I could not accomplish--That our organization could not counter.

I now realize that it has shaped me into what I call.. Impatient. Something that at times only aggravate me whenever I think of it. Because it takes me closer to what I despise.

 

My ancestral traits.

 

Paranoid, anxieted and extremely dangerous. That he would have been allowed to go home is a pure wonder. But then again, the people of that time were clearly playing with forces they hardly could manipulate. I'm still not entirely sure if it was the production from war or a bad background, but my father was exactly what I despised in humanity.

He was a maniac with a gun. And he had been forced out of service because of his behaviour.

But then there was someone else who I never had met--The one who gave birth to me

Vengeance is a pretty potent weapon. I know so even more, for even if we never knew each other we share one connection stronger than so much else.

The bond of blood.

Even if I never was raised by her, she would be with my every step of the way. The anger is in us. I knew that much after seeing the reports on my own father from his military evaluation.

The will to learn more sort of died out. After all, there was hardly anything vital written in there. Only anger. And that made me loathe him.

And my mother you might ask? What about her?

Truth was I cared little about that. Historically seeing woman still had little influence of this time. If anything they valued men over others. And so I assumed that she was just as any other woman of her time.

Some random housewife who loves cooking and cleaning.

 

Nothing was more surprising than the day when she made it inside. When she stood at my threshold. The woman who stepped inside the doors that day was someone compleatly different than what I had imagined.

Not just because of the rumors travelling the Commonwealth, but because of what she said when she spotted me next to my younger copy.

 

_"Father?"_

 

At first I felt amusement. She had already uncovered so much and to find out my new title wouldn't be that surprising.

Her eyes became calm the moment I spun my tale. But instead of refusing to believe, or even trying to aim the gun in my face, she smiled. And freakishly enough, her hand went up to my face and cupped my cheek with her dirty palm.

_"My little boy."_

 

I still feel.. Complexed about it.

I certainly had hoped that she would be accepting. It was refreshing. But this.. This was a whole new level. It would have been easier if she had disregarded me compleatly. If she had refused to believe.

The way she would shower me with my name, again, and again and again. 

One important question many offered me after our brief but very informative meeting ; How do I feel about the whole ordeal when she asked me of my fathers death? About why I had been taken from them?

Pain? Anger? Sorrow?

 

Would it surprise anyone if I feel nothing?

 

Had I passed by my father, or mother on a street I would not know them. I wouldn't have recognised them, and most certainly now, they would not recognise me in return. One particular sentence always stayed inside my head whenever I thought of them.

I cannot miss someone I've never known.

Perhaps that is why I didn't feel too particularly shocked when I discovered what my caretaker had done when he had acquired me. From the reports, my father had been struggling aggressively and in that risked to harm me. And in order to accomplish what was needed, my caretaker pulled the trigger.

But when she showed pity for a man who had killed her beloved she triggered something in me.

Not anger, or even remorse.

Curiosity.

Because.. Who was that woman with the incredibly dark gaze? Who was that woman who had screamed for his blood as he stepped to her freezer? And who was that woman that now pitied her own husbands killer?

 

I remember wishing I had taken the chance to read through her university results sooner.

 

For as soon as she left for the surface I began my search.

There was so much about my mother that I never knew. Her brilliant mind, her thirst for knowledge was absolutely stunning. There I finally found a connection that I had missed my entire life. One who I could understand, completely. A connection I never had sought, but now never could live without.

The day when I met her I knew she could be right. I knew I had been right in opening her cage.

 

Not all fossils are worth throwing away. There was some worth preserving. And she could help to reshape the world we lived in now.

'Mankind redefined'.

Yes. We, _I_ would create something _new._

But, unfortunately enough we humans are flawed. We always need something original.

Namely, me.

 

A base substance. Even God could not create the world from simply nothing. But while he took his mind, the new life around me is created from my blood.

And in a way, they are created from my reflection. Just as Adam was from the God in the heavens.

 

_"They are your children!"_

Children?

What an utmost ridiculous analysis.

The synthetic lifeform we have created are far from human. Just because it have the face of one does not make it any less wrong. The synths are machines, even if they are biological. And because they are so new we know far to little to let them loose. But seeing her as I do now, knowing her far better I can see the many similarities. Not just the obvious ones like the shape of our noses, cheeks. The impossible curls of our hair.

But our intellects.

While we differ on the morality of the human life, souls, religion and on what marks us as truly human we share a great deal of passions. The fire of ideology and politics. However, when I see the necessity of restriction, she see the right to choose.

Right does not make it any easier. If anything the right to have choices binds us.

The truth is that people are corrupt. They will always be corrupt. But as the true and self righteous patriot she sees the short straw. Democracies will always fall. Just as dictators. That has been proven over time.

But a king..

There will always be the one and true king. The special king.

He will grow up, knowing that he is the right for the position and will have his whole childhood to train before that role. And here, with my reversed monarchy I have the chance to make sure that everything goes right. Now all I need is my heir to see the truth.

The real truth and not the idiotic idealism she's been fed her whole and so very short life.

"Father, the specimen is awake. Should I engage the memory transfer?"

"Ah, good. Let's do it right now."

 

Unlike God I wouldn't let Adam populate earth with his own. 

 

I will not allow Eve to take the bite.

  
`~)*(~´ 

 

Nick's expression as he saw me come going was not one of surprise.

 

But Preston's and MacCready's were. While the two men rose their guns the Synth lowered them with his skeleton hand.

"Time for you to show up." The merc growled while Nick gave him a harsh look.

With great effort I tried to keep my cool. It failed. Everyone could see the irritation I had brought with me from the bunker.

 

Before I even had realized the bucket with the blue paint was all over the floor, and the brush bathing in a the steadily growing pool when I had rushed and entered my new power armor.

Because the moment heard the guy on the radio send out the news I knew she would end up in danger.

They were advancing their territory and Lexington was rather close to Sanctuary. Where she used to live. Why go there? There was hardly anything worth of note up north. Only..

Vault 111.

The technology there might still be intact. But from the description she gave me it didn't seem that interesting. And judging from the gathering people I had been right to worry. Why else would the gun for hire, the detective and the General all be coming to her old hometown?

 

"Where is she?"

The synth and the two other young men all grew uncomfortable looks as Nick stared at me, as if trying to figure something out.

"Well?" I persisted, with more of a growl rather than asking as I took my helmet off.

"Not here."

 

I knew it.

 

I knew I shouldn't have let her go alone. I knew the Brotherhood soldiers outside of Sanctuary was after her. But while she was on her own, likely afraid.. Where had I been? I was supposed to keep her safe. It was my one damn job. Instead I wallowed in my own self pity. 

Just as I was about to turn I felt a strong hand grab my arm.

"They're likely after her. But they haven't gotten hold of her, otherwise they wouldn't demand an audience with us."

"Then.."

"It's way to late to go now, but we'll head out at dawn."

 

"Why should he come? The dude's a synth!"

 

I stared up as I heard McCready from the side. He stared back with gritted teeth, while Preston held back his arm.

"Joseph.."

"What? You all must be thinking it! Is it even safe to bring him with us?" He snatched his arm back and rose his gun, pointing it right at me. The red laser kept hovering right between my eyes. "The thing is a fu-- He's a coward! Had it not been for him she'd still be here!"

Nick went in between, grabbing the rifle by it's barrel. "From where I'm standing, Danse's not the bad guy. I'm a synth, too, but you wouldn't shoot me."

"It's different!"

"How's it any different?"

 

It wasn't really. Meaning, _we_ weren't any different. Not the least.

It wasn't until now that I began to consider how Nick had been feeling about the Institute the whole time.

_"No machine should have free will."_

_"Why? You jealous you had to turn yours in?"_

 

Now I'm protected by the very thing I used to hunt. Time and time again I had been insulting his very existence, threatened to have him killed. And now he stood before my death.

I had really been working in the blind.

And I could not help but feel awkward around this whole situation. People who's life I had spit upon now helped me. They pitied _me_ when I had hated them back. I had been wrong, It really was as she said.

'No one asks to be born'.

 

"So far as I'm concerned he's worth nothing. The guy got as much emotion as a bag of hammers."

I get it. I had hurt people in the past. All out of anger.  

"I know." I whispered as I looked down on the ground. "But right now this is all about finding her."

"Don't change the subject!"

"I'm not what's important right now! She is! And she's gone."

Finally his rifle dropped down again. "Oh, I know she's gone!" He looked over at Preston as he threw the rifle in the holster on his back. "If you guys are wrong and he flips, don't say I didn't warn you. I'm still going to sleep with one eye open."

He walked in a big circle around me and I could hear him curse far behind me as he vanished along the buildings. I don't blame him. Had I been in his position I had been just the same. I had to keep telling myself that.

Because I know I would not have changed my opinion on the other races out here, had it not been for my own position. Because I know, if it had been her and not me I wouldn't have hesitated.

I _would_ have taken the shot.

"When do we start looking?"

"As I said, it's too late now. You're synth but you still gotta eat and sleep, there's a spare bed inside." Nick pointed back with his thumb at the building in his back. "But I have something I want to show you first. It's in her old house right across the street."

Unable to hide the anger I snarled as I stepped up to his side. "Who ever gave you the right--"

" _I_ did. Sanctuary is not under your protection, _Synth_. " Preston answered. "This is _my_ town."

His gun was aimed at me now, but Nick went in between calmly once more and rose his two hands high above his chest. "General. The man's trying to help. She didn't give up her whole career and didn't risk her life so you could take his."

Strangely enough Prestons eyes seemed a whole lot darker because of that. After yet another moment he sank his rifle.

"Fine." He uttered and moved to my side, with is face pointing forward. "You're her friend, and I'll allow you the right to look through her things. But if you make a single move on my boys, I swear you'll never see my shot coming. You can start off by exiting that power armor of yours."

Preston nodded at the house on his front where they had set up shop, and at a workingstation where another old model of a power armor stood.

It was an uncommon older model. A T-45 with blue and yellow paint. I made a swift jump outside, but instead of a gun in my back I felt a strong hand giving a firm pat.

"Good." A bit surprised, I swallowed the compliment from Nick and walked over the street towards her home. "Apparently there's more than what's visible to the eye for our little wanderer." The Synth hummed as we walked inside.

 

Well inside I roamed the entrance with more eager than I had intended to display.

Because at one point, This had been her home. In another life she had been strutting around in here with a child and husband. In another life, she had loved someone else. I wondered what this place used to look like. Where the furniture had been standing. What most of the stuff around even was used for.

It was sort of hard to picture her, out of everyone, as a housewife. Judging from how long we had been side by side she seemed as she had been born to wield a gun.

She had probably never been back, seeing from how dusty everything around us was. Leaves and the old furnitures still layed in piles around the floor and the hole in the roof seemed bigger since the last time I had been here.

 

She is avoid Sanctuary.

 

I don't blame her.

Whenever I could, I would avoid Rivet city and especially the docks where my junkstand would have been located.

It only brought headaches.

 

I turned when I heard the sound of a click and saw the Synth approach me from the end of a small corridor. Nick held two old books. One much larger than the other on it.

Nick held up the smaller one. "A diary."

"You went through her things?"

My tone had been harsh, but Nick only gave me a smug expression as he handed it over. To him this was simple. Getting to know them was the first part of discovering how or where they might have gone. Valentine was a detective. A copy, but still, a detective. But since my discovery.. I detested him even more than before. I detested the Institute even more.

I could not help but frown as I let the pages free. It was her handwriting, but it was written in some sort of gibberish, with characters I never even had seen. "What kind of language is this?"

"If I recall correctly.." The synth hummed, "This is one of 'them scandinavian languages. Can't translate it though. Maybe if I had a lexicon or.."

"Never mind, then." I rose my hand and looked over the other book that was a whole lot thicker. "And this?"

"A photo album." He said with a bit of reverence. "I'd figured you'd like to see it."

 

I know I had opened the diary and even if it was unreadable I had comitted a crime. The album would be another one. They were private. 

And there would undoubtedly be interfering with something she would need to tell me herself. By opening this book I would reopen wounds that she had sealed off.  

Then again, what if I never would see her again? And what if there was anything we needed inside it?

With a deep clunk of air the first pages was revealed before us, as if I was expecting someone to punish us from above I felt the sweat pearl up on my forehead. I soon breathed calmer as I saw an old barn.

Creatures common for those days were all around, horses, black and white one-headed brahmins and birds of different variations and colors flocking a pen. And all around there seemed to be millions of children running, laughing and falling.

"How can it have stayed intact after all these years?" I asked a bit awed.

Nick shook his shoulders next to me. "It was locked in a an old safe. Plenty of other things too that I took care off, so it wont get melt down."

"What kind of things?"

The synth pulled in his pocket, showing off a few of the old treassures. "Hmm, let's see.. An ol' watch, some money that I didn't bother with. And oh, a few medals from the first and second world war, 'Nam.. Prewar." He held up the last one between his thumb and indexfinger that was unspoiled by mold and rust.

The blue of it's ribbon and the edges of the startips still looked as sharp as the day when it was made.

"This must have belonged to her husband." Nick hummed as he observed the medal. "Quite the achievement, I'll say."

Unable to hide the burn I flipped the next page of the album with a bit more force.

Her husband is dead.

Nate is  _gone_.

I got nothing to be jealous about.

 

A boy with dark brown hair and incredibly green eyes stared back at me. And in the photo next to him a girl in a yellow puff-armed dress with white kneehigh socks and ribbons in her blonde hair commanded the flock of children from before.

She wore a worn, old helmet, proudly as she pointed out at the field where they played.

Then, the longer we ventured through this speechless story the fewer the children became. Instead the camera became more focused on the brown-haired boy and the blonde girl as they rode together, played cards and ate some sort of fruit.

 

And when I saw the little girl with a rifle, I instantly knew who it was.

 

Those intense, dead serious eyes could belong to none other.

I could see the Synth stare at me with amusement from the corner of my eyes and instantly frowned, trying to escape his gaze. I looked at the photo on the side. Om the small boy next to her.

_"We knew each other early on."_

The boy.

That boy.

"That's Nate."

Nick nodded in agreement. "I'd wager that as well."

They became older. Her bright and thick blonde hair was brought up in a ponytail. Her dresses switched place with a pair of sacky and worn pants and high rubber boots. The children became fewer and only Nate remained.

And as we flipped to the next page I felt my heart part in two.

 

Nate's hand were around her waist and her lips were lightly pressed against his.

 

They could hardly be more than perhaps fourteen.

They had been together with each other for their whole life. They had always been with one another. They had fallen asleep next to each other every night since they were children.

And they had went down in the vault together.

But when she awoke, two hundred years later she was alone.

Our pains were different, but very much real. And I had rubbed it even further.

_"Can you even imagine that?"_

I started up as nothing. But I never ended up as nothing.

 

Unlike before I have someone. Now, I have her.

And I shrugged her off.

 

I know I had complained that I don't have a good background, not even a fake one. But now, thinking back, I'm happy that I don't have false parents or even an manufactured childhood. The truth had been so much more harsh if I the ones raising me never had been real. Most of my past _is_ my own.

My first friend, girl and home. Its mine, and I have seen them. Not just received it.

Because she had lost absolutely _everything_.

Her childhood home, friends, parents. Husband..

Her child.

  

I grunted as I forced the pages forth, seeing her grow taller, more feminine. And eventually she wore a white dress with cloth covering her face.

"What's.."

Nick hummed with a casual tone. "They're getting married."

I could instantly feel that squeeze again. Around my throat, inside my chest.

Pressing forward, page after page more photos of the two occured. Of the farm, people greeting them. I must have rushed farther than I had intended, for soon when we entered a new environment she looked older.

The setting changed and she stood inside a lab with other people. She wore a white lab coat and a pair of protection glasses. And instantly I could understand why she had been so understanding about how things would have progressed and why she didn't seem as shocked to discover new life forms that would have been bizarre in her time.

I now knew why she had been so fascinated.

Why she could spend hours, observing. Analyzing.

 

_"Seeing everyone surviving out here? Rebuilding the world?_

_It gives me hope."_

 

Those few words, from someone so completely out of her own element. It gave them hope. Me included.

Eventually a single photo of Nate popped up with him wearing a soldiers attire, proudly saluting as he smiled towards the camera.

  
Then she stood alone, right where I was standing right now. With a baby in her arms.

 

"Shaun.."

Nick and I both grew wondrous faces when we saw the few, blonde strands on his head. He looked like her. He had her nose, her smile. His eyes weren't like her blue ones though.

They were green.

I know it might be my unyielding infatuation to his mother, but seeing his little smile alongside hers I could not help but to love him as well, as his happy toothless grin silently laughed when she kissed his little cheek I felt like laughing. 

He, and her, they are both as beautiful as life itself. 

A question came to mind now, while I observed the wrinkled shape of his hand around her long finger.  
  
 

Can _I_ have children?

 

I should probably not be surprised if I can't. To make us synths infertile would be a precaution they couldn't afford to ignore. It would be a lie if I say I don't feel somewhat sad about that.

The thought had never even crossed my mind, seeing as Victoria only played and The Brotherhood restricted us from sex. They even held charters on which should breed or not. But when she came along..

It was only first when she joined the order and when I began to develop feelings that I even considered the idea of marriage. Because of Maxon's words.

He hadn't become Elder for nothing. He could tell differences in us as soon as they began to grow. And like the patient farmer he would reap what she had sown. 'Everything is a battle', he had told me at one point. Because to him, everything was a game.

A hunt.

And now he is after her.

 

Now I only regret one thing. Never seeing her again. 

I flipped to the next page, but it was empty. Nick sighed and gave my shoulder a firm pat. "This must have been close to when the war started."

I weighted the album in my hands a little then flipped back to the former page where she was holding her child. I could feel Nick's eyes burn as I picked it out and let it glide down in the back of pocket, then handed over the album for him to hold. 

"How will we even find her?" I said with my eyes pinned on the other. "There's nothing that can lead us to her."

"Preston mentioned tracks. We'll take Dogmeat and see if we can find her scent."

 

Once again I felt the anger brew. "There's tracks? Why didn't we go straight away?"

The synths eyes grew harsh as I clenched my fist. "It's too dark to go now."

 

No. 

That wasn't it. 

He is  _looking_ for something.

 

"Why did you show me this?"

 

Nicks cold expression became amused now, as he leaned back against the wall with his hands folded across his chest. "I see you didn't become Paladin for nothing. I wanted to make sure.. Of something. And now I've found it."

"Why do you even care?"

Nicks eyes became incredibly distant now, and he looked to the side. "I'll admit, at first I wanted to check your reaction. If you still wanted to return to the Brotherhood." 

I was about to snap when he rose his hand. "But, then you showed something else. I lost someone I loved once--Or, well. The _original_ Nick did. But the regret always follows me, every day."

There was nothing that could hide the suprise when his hand found my shoulder and remained.

 

"Beleive it or not, I don't want you to go through the same thing."

 

I gawked, unable to speak. 

Valentine might be a synth. But it was clear that he knew far more of human emotions than he had let of.

_"Don't be so harsh on Nick. He's a great guy once you get to know him."_

There had always been a jealousy from my side. I can admit this. Why she even would want to travel around with that machine was beyond me. Now, as he had allowed me a chance, I could not help but feel some respect grow.

Out of principle I had hated him. Just because he lacked the things that makes us human. She had called me human once, but Nick, if anyone, was more human than the rest of us combined. And even if he wasn't human, he was one of the kindest souls out there. Despite everything, he would risk his own hide for people. Even those that might not even thank him afterwards.

 

"Don't worry about McCready." Nick said as his hand left my shoulder. "He'll come around. He cares about her as much as you. Oh, and don't worry about the photo! I won't tell a single soul!" He whispered behind his hand. He laughed again as I felt the cold sting following my neck.

I looked after him, long as he walked over the street and got inside the house where Preston was holding up. I stayed a bit longer, pulling up the photo of her. I must have been standing there, looking, for a long time. Because I never noticed the woman that now stood right in front of me.

 

"Danse?"

 

She looked different now.

White hair, shaved on the right side of her head and the rags she usually wore had been replaced with a thicker leather coat with a collar hiding her chin. But her aura, it was the same, along with her dark, dark eyes..

The eyes who now stared at me as if I had been a ghost.

Her whisper had been filled with a bit of surprise from the sound of it.

I felt equally as stunned.

  

"..Victoria."

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Uh, so long. So much editing. Me need new brain.
> 
> The synths are mostly biological, with the exeption of a small metal peice in their heads--I think that's the thing that makes Danse feel a constant headache. 
> 
> I assume that they would make them baron as well, just in case they would go on a wild spree like the one in Dimond city did.
> 
> I'd expect Shaun to feel like God, seeing as he creates life. But unlike God he does not give them free reins. What I fail to understand is why he would create 'pure' humans, if not to make them the true and new humanity. I would most likely have agreed with Shaun, had it not been that they have free wills.
> 
> The Sole Survivor is based off the look from the cartoonish guy you see everywhere in the game. Or well, his female counterpart. Blonde with curles. Although I imagine she'd keep her hair up in a ponytail or pharhaps a bun under the mask.
> 
> I'm gonna go ahead and admit that I didn't really like this part, but it's all important for build up for the chapters to come. I hope you'll enjoy it better than I.


	4. This ceiling can't hold us

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, I'm gonna be honest. I only took a moment to edit. I'm sure there are PLENTY of mistakes. Please inform me if you find any!
> 
> Oh! Btw! In case anyone is interested helping me writing on this fic, contact me on Matilda.Reftel@gmail.com! I have most ready, but could need a second pair of eyes.
> 
> Anyway, let's get this shit goin'!

 "Where's Cutler?"

 

It rained.

Or, well. It started to rain first now.

Because the setting wasn't bad enough as it is. Slowly and steadily it increased and soon the symphony of the drops hammered hard without yield against the roof and down in the hole where the long and lone counter was placed. Where the barstools has been thrown away from their original post.

She sounded incredibly angry. Her face instantly confirmed it as she stepped inside and away from the waves. I merly stood there by the entrance with its door wide open, unable to speak. Just as the day we had met. And the closer she came, the more frightened I became.

Yes, frightened.

I couldn't help but feel anything but awkward to stand in my new love's house with a former one. But the fear rushing through me wasn't caused from that. It was created from the knowledge that she probably already knew where our mutual friend was.

That he was no more but a pile of abnormally big bones, decorating the halls where a gang of new supermutants ruled.

In the next moment I was on the floor with a sore cheek. And she was on me, pinning down my arms with the strength her legs. Her punches weren't really that hard--They only sounded harsh thanks to the wet from the rain.

 

"Where. _Is_. Cutler?!"

 

I didn't really need to tell her.

She knew.

Or it might be that she became aware the moment I dove down my gaze. The moment where I avoided her in shame.

Her eyes became darker while her brown complexion became paler. A thing rare to be seen, especially from her. But the fists and the power behind her punches--They weren't new. 

But even I who had tasted the iron several times before couldn't help but let go of my breath as I felt the incredible strenght in her arms when they found my gut.

  
"Hey--Hey! Calm down! Glory!"

She threw off the guy behind us with ease, made him lose his black wig to the pools of water outside the threshold.

"You weren't supposed to fight!" She growled as her hands found the collar of my white T-shirt. "You weren't supposed to _kill!"_

"Stop that! This ain't why we're here!"

I looked at the guy who once again had taken hold of Victoria's arms, holding her close to his chest. He had looked familiar. When her elbow hit him in the face and brought down his eyeglasses it finally hit me. 

 

That bloke had called her 'A big deal'.

 

But despite all their ill-adviced attempts to flattery she refused.

Back then she thought that they had been keeping watch over her. That the dude who now splattered around on the floor had been after her. She thought she was turning crazy from seeing him everywhere.

One of many reasons why she had refused to show off her face in public. Why she always hid, always wore a mask. I now knew what it had been all along. They hadn't been watching her.

They had been watching _me_. 

 

"Did you help me escape from the Institute?"

 

The two of them stared at me and then I was pinned against the ground with her hovering over me. Her eyes had grown thinner and her lip curled up in disgust. "You asshole! You knew you were a synth and still--"

"I didn't know anything!" 

I yelled.  

I couldn't refrain myself from that. And now I was holding her against the wall, with my hands around her collar. "I didn't know a single fuck! All this time, you kept me in the dark! All this time you knew who I was!" She was fast, and once again I was about to fall, had I not taken her fist to my abdomen, tilting me up instead of down.

This was a new side I had never seen from her. Or well, not to this extent. It wasn't really new. Only the strength in her. Fists like iron, demolishing the already broken home further.

"Stop it! The both of you!"

Her friends voice was but an annoying plea in the debris falling across the room. And as she moved graciously, avoiding my kicks and punches her silver hair danced in front of her dark eyes that held me dead-locked.

 

I could count the number the days when I wanted nothing more than have those pair eyes on me. The days when I wanted nothing more than to have her mouth whisper my name between our heated breaths. 

 

Now my name sounded sickening as she launched her hand on my cheek.

"I didn't kill you so that you could join those fucking maniacs, Danse!"

Kill me.

I assumed she meant my previous self. The guy who had fled.

So my memory has been wiped away. I hadn't been like Nick--Tossed away as junk. The Railroad made them forget. So that they could stay hidden. I had been like that. I had been scared and willing to lose myself for a better life. 

What a joke.

Walking sore on the street, looking for scraps and breadcrumbs Isn't a better life. 

 

Having nothing isn't a better life.

 

Alone, cold, constantly hungry. Ignorant of the dangers of the world. At one point I had blamed the Institute for giving birth to me. For not giving me happy memories. 

If anything, the Railroad made me an clueless idiot.

 

The man I was before was a coward.

 

In an instant I was up and she fell to the floor. She was quickly on her feet again and had made it to the other side of the broken kitchen, throwing all kinds of things at me. First when a toaster hit me in the head I hid behind a chair.

"You killed innocents! Innocent synths who had done nothing but fled to get something better in life! And you took that away from them!"

 

"You should have told me!"

 

A growl escaped my throat as I hoisted up the chair and threw it on her. No fear that I might hurt her even went through me at that moment. Because somehow I knew she could avoid it. That she--Somehow--Would be able to split the chair apart with her bare hand.

Because I now knew that Victoria was a Synth herself.

It takes a Synth to know a Synth, I suppose. I had always been strong. Incredibly strong. My CEO had mentioned this at several occations. Exercising had come easy for me and I could run for longer than most. I could do things other had trouble with in an instant. Now I knew that strength to be abnormal.

I now knew that my benefits had been hers as well.

Now I could understand why we both would get irritated from headaches. Haunted from the constant nagging pain in our necks. Why we both almost every night would toss on and about in our way to small bed thrown together by two mattresses in the cramped quarters back in Rivet City, on the second level.

She had always been quick on her feet and she had always been a good brawler. I had learned that the hard way. Cutler would always joke on how silly I was and how I needed to show who's the boss. Laughing, I had dismissed it, figured she'd stop one day. Because back then I had found that part of her endearing.

In time it grew into irritation.

She would suddenly disappear in the middle of the night. She could be gone for days at a time. Eventually I grew tired from worrying. From wondering where she was and where the bruises and cuts on her body originated from. Then we argued about it. We had sex, we became angry again and so it went on, in a long never ending cycle. Until the day when I grew tired and broke up. Back then I had felt relieved as she stormed out through the door.

Maybe that's why I thought my second break up, even if a short romance, would be just as easy.

But it wasn't. 

This thime I didn't want to let go.

 

"Told you what?" She smiled as she launched another hit to my nose. "That we're fucked up and not really alive?"

I stopped and stared.

Not really alive.

 

_"That's life you feel."_

 

No. I am. I _am_ alive.

My hand went up to my face where I had been hit last. It fell back, red and wet. 

I _bleed._

 

I'm _real!_

 

"Who decided that?"

 

She laughed. For a long time and soon I could taste my own blood again as it splattered around. " _You're not a machine, Danse. In fact, you're more human than most people ever could hope to be_ \--Blah blah BLAH! What a loud of _BULL!"_

I stared in anger as she mimicked what has been said between four eyes. As she with a high and mighty tone mocked her poem and our memory. 

Even then she had seen us.

Perverted. 

"Don't believe that shit! We're _put_ together. Like small toys we're constructed, part by part. We're nothing like them!" She stopped all of a sudden and rose her finger just in front of my face.

"And your missus knows that!"

The colour must have left my face, for she laughed again with that confident and smug expression I once found exotic and hot. An expression I now loathed and that only become more disgusting the longer she ranted on. Because to me she appeared as the jealous psychopath who couldn't comprehend--Who couldn't allow others to live peacefully. One who constantly hunted what others had. And could she not have that she wouldn't allow others the joy either.

"I know of your fling! I know what she said. And I know something else about her. Something she didn't tell you.

She smiled as she pulled my hair and looked into my eyes.

"You know what she is? A double-crosser! A liar! She's a fucking whore!"

"SHUT UP!"

Soon I stumbled around the room, with her arms around my throat, trying to choke me.

 

Fact was I did know she had hidden something. A great deal of things ever since we met. But hearing it felt even worse. 

 

_"Do all these questions really matter?"_

 

Ever since we met at Cambridge police station she had been quiet and hard to get to know. She refused to speak of herself. Even as I required her help at the powerplant. But at night, I could hear her, as she crept close to Dogmeat in her tiny sleeping bag. How she'd humm on the lullaby, over and over again. 

I couldn't understand the words or even the meaning. But after a while, I begun to enjoy the softness of her tune, albeit hidden underneath the mask. Her song always sounded so sad. It made the stoic and selfish woman in the corner a bit more human to me. Sometimes even I could drift away as I heard it. The pain pulsating inside my head was not as present when she was there.

She made me feel safe.

She made me feel big, strong. She made me want to feel again.

 

And I suppose that's why I feel so frightened in the company with Victoria. She made me unstable, nervous--And not in the good way.

Because while my new woman made me feel alive, my former made me feel dead.

 

"You know I'm right!" She yelled above me as I struggled to get air. 

We bounced from wall to wall as I in an angry snarl tried to get her off me. I was just about to loose her when she took a hard grip in my hair, in which I fell back with a grunt. It hurt when I felt the rusty ends of the plate metal in my back. My hand fell back, trying to throw her to the side. It ended with me falling instead, right at the door that broke and fell right down in the water.

It was first when I saw the album fall from it's place in the shelf by the entrence that I stopped fighting back. The moment when I saw the millions of images of children, the farm with the white painted veranda and the animals who ate the green and fresh grass right outside spurt out in one, quick cough.

 

When she stepped outside the church, throwing her bouquet for the other girls to catch.

 

And just like the white and yellow flowers, they all flew for the wind. Away from me and towards the outside. Away for the rest of the world to see. 

In a desperate attempt to save the broken pages I finally managed to throw her off and launched myself forward, landing just in front of it. My head went back as I felt her hands clawing a tight hold around my foot, pulling me back. I could only stare as even more of the thin and yellowed papers rained when she kicked it outside, over the street where Preston and MacCready came running. I didn't even bother to look at the woman who held my throat from above when I crawled forward, trying to save the last bit of her past that melted down in the acid drops.

And I shook, silently as the soggy mass that used to be photographs slowly slipped through my fingers.

 

Because in a way, I had lost her.

 

For a second time. 

 

`~)*(~´

 

"Yes, Squire? What can I help you with?"

 

I had barely hidden the drawing before the child walked inside. The young boy blew up his cheeks as he stepped forward and handed over a newly printed report for me to read directly. As I took it he banged his free tiny fist to his chest so hard that he nearly lost breath. I usually didn't show any emotion to things but this right here? The patriotism he showed for our order? 

 _That_ made me eager to smile.

It is that kind of devotion and prowess that makes me care about them. About anyone. It is when they show their value and their will to spill their own blood for any of our brothers and sister that I care. Because I've been spilling my blood for them. I expect nothing less in return. Man, woman or child.

Everyone counts as long as they put their heart into our work.

"Good work. You are dismissed."

"Sir! Thank you, sir!"

He saluted and I humored him by gesturing one of my own. I did not doubt for one second that he wanted to give in and smile, judging by the way his little freckled face lit up. I wouldn't have minded, but I know the likes of my former superiors would have. One of many things I wanted to change.

A child is still a child in my meaning.

I remember a time when I had been so small and eager to please everyone around me. When I had been anxious to salute my elder. And even if I sounded weak for saying so, I didn't blame the nativite from them. Francly it is they that made the way of life we're protecting so much more worth it. But while the others seek to preserve, I seek to change.

I want a world where we can afford to be children again. A world where we can risk exposing our _true_ selves.

 

As soon as the boy was gone I opened the folder and brough the paper outside from it's hold. And in an instant I could tell why they had sent in a boy with the report.

 

Because had it been any other I would have thrown the  nearest thing I had on them.

 

The paper was only a tightly squeezed ball when it tapped the wall lightly in its fall.

Failure. _Weak_.

A frustrated breath escaped my throat as I fell back in my chair, looking over the larger room as I chewed the walls inside of my mouth. So hard that it nipped hole and made my gum taste like iron.

 

_"Don't make me regret ever having petionied you for the position as Elder. I, as well as the others back in the Citadel expects results from you._

_Expose of her, **immediately**."_  

 

Infuriating and cunning with a brain like that of an old rat.

A rat who had learned every little trick on how to evade. And it's knowledge would be passed down to their young.

The Synth isn't where I have left it.

 

She always managed to mess everything up. First the paladin and now the morale aboard our airship. How could she alone take down a patrol of seven people? And not just any, but knights! It made no sense. Like it wasn't difficult enough to make them see her as a the enemy already.

One of the breeds of Synths called "Coursers" were known to be able to handle more than a Vertibird on their own. And she had killed a Courser in the past..

Had she had been aided? Or did she really kill this courser to begin with?

 

The desk nearly fell as I went up and banged my hands into it's surface.

 

How I want to bring her to her bare knees.

 

And in the same time, I feel a certain amount of respect towards her. But I'm alone sharing this admiration.

 

_"Forgive my bold statement, Sir. She's a single woman and a dweller--Not a saint._

_.. She's an outsider."_

 

True, she is a single woman and a Vault-Dweller at that. But the Knight she had served under at the police station was wrong to overlook her like he did. If there's anything I've learned as a strategist it's to never look down on your opponent. Even the sweetest smile from a child could be the one tipping the weight of a blade down you throat.

Especially a smile from her.

The woman who now has slipped through my hands for a second time was strong and dangerous. Magnificent, even.

Her deceit was unexpected, but after a bit of consideration, not that surprising. After all, her unyielding loyalty to the thing who had recruited her was an admirable trait, if missguided. All her qualities makes her a fine woman and a good soldier.

But a traitor. 

 

Maybe I should have seen it coming. Maybe I shouldn't have been so quick to offer her the position amongst us, even if well adjusted within the role of a soldier. Because just as I stated by the bunker, the people from the world before created the world we live and protect now.

People like her destroyed us by its own hypocrisy and hybris.

I suppose it was the desire to see her pleased that made me blind. Me, out of everyone.

Why did I even listen? Because of my foolish and misplaced admiration I might have doomed our order.

 

Proctor Quinlan's eyes had never been darker than the moment he handed me to clipboard with his diagnostics.

 

The proof that one of our best soldiers had been an imposter as well.

Had she come clean and told me of her connection with the Institute's leader I might have looked passed it. Because she still fought with us. She still carried out her orders to precise demand and followed every given detail to the letter. But I suppose it's often those who wants to appear the most loyal that aren't.

Her view on human life truly must be shrewd.

Machines are our creations. They were never meant to be our equals. And we most certainly do not create humans outside the natural course.

Because why else do we go through the stages of childhood, if not to learn and adapt? We become, grow and develop different skills. Our experiences are what shapes us and they are born from our wits, our smarts and intellect.

A Synth never do that.

It simply rises from its table like a finished product. It acts out from an already decided programming. With an already constructed personality and soul. They never learn on their own. Their thoughts are decided for them and can be changed in the blink of an eye.

 _That_ is why they cannot be allowed. The character in question can be a saint for all it's worth. But the technology behind its creation, it is what I want stopped. Given the chance,  will they not form an army?

 

For who's not to say they, if given the chance, will replace us all when we're the impure ones?

 

After the studies the scribes have done, I can tell that the body indeed is the like of a human. It had always amazed me with its strong physical health, length and stamina. We've served many years side by side, it and I. But never did I think it to be a machine.

Danse is flesh and bone and they play with the very ethics of creation and God. And just as God the mind behind its birth presumes to wipe out us jealous children so that his second creation can take place on the planes of Earth.

Am I Gabriel in the eyes of the Institute?

Fact was that I thought the same of them. Like Vampires they seek to shelter themselves among us. Yet another proof that I'm right about my thesis ;

'

Flesh is flesh. Machine is machine--Never meant to intertwine.

 

 

It irritates me. More than I'd like to admit. 

Because in some way, she is a whole lot like me.

Unlike so many others around me she was a refreshing sight and a much better person for conversation. Because unlike so many others she doesn't view me like a living deity. She sees the man beneath the armor. We were both dedicated and put our souls into our work.

But while I was experienced, she made up in charisma. That extra little thing of being able to convince.

You can work, year after year to harness your skills. And some, some are just born with it. She had that. Few dared to question my leadership or even remotely ask for another path. She constantly did this. Always made sure that there was at least two possible options for every mission.

_"You always have a choise."_

Unlike the many other dogs on this airship she spoke her mind. She wasn't afraid of the punishments I was ready to throw at her.

_"Bring it on, Elder."_

I could not help but to smile as I remembered her close in front of me. How I for one moment thought myself see a smile in her eyes behind the glass. No matter how many times I threatened to give her a punishment for the insubordinate behaviour she still backtalked. She didn't hesitate from speaking her mind. Now I imagine it sounds like pure admiration, which it is. But what I'm thinking is how.. Open she felt in my company.

 

Only two other people had ever treated me for who I was. Only two other people before her had ever just treated me like a normal boy and not seen the name behind me.

He was always a real hero to me. I can still remember how the young guy had chuckled and patted my shoulder.

 

_"Don't rush to grow up, kid."_

_"I wish I could be a boy again. I_ _wish I could be unaware of all the world's problems._ "

 

I guess he got what he wanted, even if a bit different from what he first had imagined.

He is totally oblivious of what happens around him now--Stuck as he is inside that barrier of glass. So far as I know he growls together with others of his brainless state around that control room. But at least he's not alone. His father is with him.

I never had one. Only a name. One I constantly was force to live up to.

 

 _"_ _I'm just really a normal boy."_  

 

I was one, at least. Until I became Elder.

Unlike the other's they didn't see the family name first. Just as that wanderer, she saw me, the younger boy who ventured about the halls of our forefathers.

There was always something different about those leaving the vaults.

Countless of times they have been known to change the course in history for a better path. Nudged others to act. Perhaps that only added to my belief that she could change our battle towards victory. Not that it was even remotely needed, but still. It was what her bright jumpsuit spoke off everytime she entered the prydwen. What all thought whenever we saw her success in her reports. Whenever she took me in the arm and demanded for an answer.

 

_"Virgil has returned to his human state. Don't ask me to kill him--Because I won't. He helped me."_

They look on life differently.

The dwellers values life. And most of all; they value honesty. Even when it could be unbeneficial. People who are open are hard to come by. People treating you accordingly are easy to miss. And I suppose that is why I liked her. I liked the fire she showed.

But it was all false, wasn't it?

 

_"After everything I've done, you got some nerve accusing me of lying!"_

 

I know she didn't lie at that moment, but that she would afterwards.

Because her voice, even though muffled sound horrified when I given her the order

 

Execute Danse.

 

And I knew she wouldn't.

I hoped, but she wouldn't.

Because even though she despised the Institute, she admired Danse. Even if she herself was in denial. But it adored her back, or at least it pretended to. Even to the point where it wanted to continue it's charade with marriage.

The question for the permission had me at a crosspoint as we stood in the hallway, me and Danse.

Yes, or no? 

It never outright spoke of this wish. Only that it has begun thinking about having a spouse of its own. It clicked rather early.

 

_"What do you think of our newest knight?"_

I had hummed at the time, then looked to the side. It had looked flustered, a bit out of sorts. But I had been to swallowed up by the question to even notice. Because what did I think of our newest knight? Truth was I admired the spirit she had and the courage and patriotism she enhanced in the others omboard.

It was when I heard the words in my head that I saw the hope in it's eyes.

_"Are you interested  in her?"_

It had turned disgustingly red in it's face as I asked the the paladin in the hallway. And it had been even harder to control my own emotions as I felt the jealousy trigger in me. Because after many arguments I had realized something. Something I only noticed as I saw Danse stumble on its words and fidget with its hands.

_"I.. Yes. I think I am."_

 

That moment. Right at that moment I had understood something on my own.

 _I'm_ interested in her.

As a woman.

 

_"And I'm considering.. I don't have a wife.."_

 

I ended up telling it that it was her decision. That if she wanted it, I would allow it. That it was all up to her in the end. Even if the jealousy would nag in my gut.

Maybe that was what made her so much more desirable.

The fact that every other woman would stutter in my company while she didn't. While every other woman glanced after me and she didn't. I usually didn't think much more about things like that. I'm not some teenager ready to bang everything that looks at me with doe eyes.

But..

The respect and admiration for the woman I now had under my command woke aches I had not felt for years. Not since the death of Sarah.

 

But unlike Sarah she wasn't in the way. She needn't be _gone_.

Quite the opposite--Her presence is now obligatory for our missions success.

 

By God, I really didn't want to do it.

 

Quinlan knows this as well. I can tell by the way I feel his eyes burn in my back every time I walk the deck towards my station. I can feel them shoot daggers ready to have me crippled. Ready to send the report back to have me and my work erased from the records.

I really didn't want to harm her. It might not have been my hand shooting that rifle, but since when is it the weapon's fault. It is the hand behind it.

 _My_ hand.

But I need to. Because if I don't my role and position as Elder will be questioned. I can not afford that to happen. Because I know how they replace those they in the council see as i fit to lead. I can not afford to not let her go. Because she has harmed me. Me, and my pride. By letting her go the others might see my ability to lead as ill fit.

And that's why I wont rest a single second before finding her. She is a traitor and like any deserter she needs to pay the price accordingly.

 

Dead or alive,

 

I _will_ have her. 

 

`~)*(~´

 

Frightening.

 

The fall must have been at least kilometer deep. At first I thought it would be unwise to go down with my power armor, but it's been years since I last fought without one. If I wanted to come at my best I would need it.

Even down here.

It smells horrible and it is a whole lot harder to breathe. The air feels pocketed and as if that it hasn't been recycled for decades.

Besides the elevator, everything looked incredibly well preserved. I'm not that suprised--This particular Vault is located rather far nortwest and highly located, making it easy to miss because of the elvator that went right down. Mountaincimbing wasn't a desiarable activity nowdays and so it had been easily protected. 

And just like others of its like it had an enormous door.

A sealed door.

 

"I thought this place was deserted." MacCready grunted as he observed the massive steelgate. "How the he--How are we supposed to breach that?"

"We can't." Nick said, a bit sultry by the sounds of it, as he observed the size of it. Dogmeat would whine loudly and irritatingly high pitched as he danced around the door. Finally the dog barked with low ears. "Suppose we're heading forward." The Synth smiled. "But we'll need a pip-boy to get in."

"And where could we even get one?" Preston asked, a bit hesitant by the sounds of it.

It should have been obvious that she would go here, with only one way in and able to stand explosion she could last for very long before she needed to get outside. It had been a somewhat wise decision to seek shelter where hardly anyone would be able to get in. But I knew that the Brotherhood had years and years of collected technology just piling up. They would bound to have pip-boys.

It had given her time. But during that brief moment she could be bleeding out.

 

Because we had already encountered five puddles with goo--The sort of goo that used to be humans.

She had been fighting. And she had been injured.

 

"I don't have the faintest of clues." The detective synth answered, seemingly as grim as I as he locked with my eyes. "I've never even heard of anyone breaching a vault without it."

"Is that really true?" Preston asked while I observed them from the side. "Didn't that friend of yours lock you inside a Vault back in Diamond city?"

 

Nick eyes suddenly lit up in what seemed surprise, but then a smile tugged in the corner of his mouth. ".. But there's always a main terminal connected to it!" He added and hurried to the side, under the metal bridge. "The door uses a network access to initiate recycling and other maintenance crap. Perhaps we could play a little with it's circuitry!"

A single operation table was located right next to where the thin steel bridge began, rusted from all the moist. While the rest lit up in eager, Preston sighed as his musket fell to his side with the handle against the floor."This doesn't look good.. How are we even sure that this will work?"

"The Brotherhood has a way of dealing with prewar-tech like this." I said as I let my hands hover over the keyboard. "It should go rather swiftly."

"You know you could just ask. Nicely." Nick winked at the side. I couldn't help but to smile at that.

It was an easy override by running the safe mode, then force a logout. When it's screen became black MacCready caught his head between his hands and yelled with an angry and alarmed scowl.

"What are you doing?! Aren't we supposed to--"

 

He didn't manage to finish before the whole cave lit up in orange lights and a beeping trumpet. All of us jumped high because of the sudden sound. Slowly, a suction sound joined that of the warning alarms.

 

**"Vault door cycling sequence initiated. Please stand back."**

 

MacCready only shuddered as he brought the collar around his neck higher. "Uhh, this place gives me the creeps."

I agreed.

Normally a few skeletons wouldn't have bothered me, but they did now. Because when she woke up, she would have been forced to see all kinds of horrific wonders. The skeletons of her former neighbours being one of them. They had all been crowding around the old, rusted fence just in front of the hill where the elivator was located.

She came from a time when death was as foreign as clean water was today.

 

MacCready let his rifle out from its holster on his back and waved us to come closer as he saw something further up, right at the door. All of us shook as a limp corpse fell out from the door as it went to the side. A fresh one, ripped to shreds.

"Fuck.." McCrady whispered with his hand above his mouth as we went closer.

That was the exact word I was about to say.

 

Because there, right there in the pool of his own, brown blood one of my former comrades bathed.

The small pond had already run stale and the smell was incredibly bad. That sweet sort of reek.

 

"She fought here.." RJ said as he scoured the ground, letting his fingers follow along the line of stale drops. "They followed. About two, maybe? The traces has been run over by something else."

He didn't really need to say it. Everyone could make it out from the obvious bloodstains coloring the concrete floor. The real question was : Whom did it belong to? A part of me had already decided. But I didn't want to give in. I need to believe she still lives.

I could feel Nick's sympathetic eyes in my back. That disgusting burn of sympathy wavering from his yellow plate eyes. I didn't want it.

My woman isn't dead.

I refuse to think her dead before I saw her lifeless before my eyes. I just couldn't stand the world to turn black and white again. The world where I thought the brotherhood had been everything.

 

_"Face it, soldier. There is no possibility for Cutler to be alive."_

 

No One said it this time. But everyone thought it. Even I. But I constantly fought with the evidence presented before me. 

 

There could be no possibility. Worse, something as cruel as fate would have turned her further from herself. Just as last time.

After yet another attempt my squad leader had given in. He sighed and allowed me the leave for my desperate hunt after my friend. Back then I had taken Paladin Krieg for a heartless bastard. Truth was he tried to keep me from seeing it, I think.

And now I was once more in the hunt. But this time I wasn't just looking for someone I cared about.

I wanted to tell her this time. 

_"He was motivating you, sir."_

Sir.

I absolutely hated it when she called me sir while she refused to call Arthur by his title. A dislike of respect that I continually reminded her of. She merely shrugged and tilted her head to the side, making her big and lose bun of hair bob.

_"What are you going to do about it, sir Paladin?"_

My ears would go red and I felt thankful that I had kept my cap on. That woman had a close grip around my throat early on. It was thanks to that I wished she never had walked without her mask for the first time. That moment, when I had realized that the blonde I had showed off in the Third Rail had been none other than my own companion.

_"Paladin Danse? More like Paladin Dense!"_

She had laughed and made quirky remarks in which she would keep hounding me while on the road. Back then I only snorted with a sneer, while now I merely laughed.

I had been attracted to her long before I knew what she looked like.

 

But when I realized the irritating fly to be her, she became an angel.

 

My fallen angel, who was doomed to walk the plains of hell.

This time I would ask. Because last time, I never had the chance to ask Krieg  _why_.

Why he kept pushing me like he did.

 

"She crawled." McCready said as he bent to his knee and looked over some of the more visible tracks. "Why didn't she seek shelter in Sanctuary? It's much closer."

"Because the Brotherhood of Steel's been hanging about." Preston answered. And just as he did I could see him from the corner of my eye, piercing me through me with his gaze.

"That doesn't make any sense." MacCready continued, seemingly clueless as he looked up again. "She's with the brotherhood.." He looked back at me. "Ain't she?"

I remained silent as I followed  the trail with my eyes.

 

Arthur had promised to spare my life, out of service. But he had never said anything about her desertion. Because that was her crime. She left during a time of war. She would be a traitor. And there would be a need to state an example.

A hand landed on my arm, and as I looked to the side I suddenly saw someone else.

 

Victoria's eyes shined with regret. 

 

I stared at first.

None of us had heard the two strangers as they entered and neither of us had seen them after yesterday. We haven't talked since the night before, when the album had fallen into the water. When I like a dog had been sitting in the rain.

Motionless.

At that moment I had felt lost again.

I grunted as I pulled back my arm with more force than I had intended. I knew I made a bigger deal out of it than I should. Just because we were fucking years ago didn't mean we would now. But I still couldn't get over the feeling that she was holding closer to me than I would have liked. 

It was awkward enough trying to resolve the situation with my new identity. I didn't need my former lover's concern. Especially since she was the one who put me in this spot to begin with.

I didn't like having her here.

 

She stumbled back a step and regained that angry expression, looked to the side, at the guy in the back.

 

"We'll need to split up. Danse, you and I--"

 

I had already passed Victoria and the rest of the group. Past the yellow-blue gate, avoiding her suggestion. If anything I didn't want to be left alone with her. We had to walk through narrow passage with radiation sensors. The longer we ventured, the cleaner it became, if you ignore the dry bodies of the radroaches resting on the ground. We ended stumbling inside a large room with a still functional terminal that Valentines hurried to look through.

"I'm going to check for the blueprint on the Vault. You go on ahead."

"It's eeh.. I'm gonna be honest with you all. I usually feel safest with a ton of rock above my head but this.. I'd prefer to travel in a group. If you don't mind." MacCready added as he looked over his shoulder.

The guy in the sunglasses looked a bit amused as he let his arms fold above his chest. "What's the matter, princess? Never been in a vault before?"

MacCready grunted as he weighted his rifle in his hands. "Ever been neighbour to a super mutant?" When the guy didn't manage to answer MacCready grew a smirk. "Imagine living right next to ship-Louds of them, constantly haunting you and about 20 other kids that you're a Mayor for. And if that's not hard enough, imagine telling them stories why not to walk outside. It wasn't before when I resigned and left that they realized how close we'd been to be chopped up and stewed all that time."

"Wait, what?" Preston asked from the side of the room. "You..Wait. How old did you say you were?"

"22."

"Not now! Then!"

"Oh, uh.. About 13, I think. Wait, 10. I turned 10 when--"

I shook when I saw Nick catch his jaw with a frown. "What is it?"

He looked up. At first it looked as if he didn't want to talk, but after rising my brow he sighed. "I've found the Overseer's personal log in the same file folder as the blueprints. Thing is.. "Here he looked down on the terminal. "It's not a pleasant read."

I walked closer, around the table and took a look for myself, while Nick begun reading out loud for the rest of us to hear.

_"I've long dreamed of making cryogenic freezing available in portable, on demand from. The cryolator is my last attempt. Thankfully we're in no short supply of the chemicals and components I need to tinker with the prototype. It's a nice way to occupy the time as we wait for the all-clear signal._

_The final staff orientation is complete, all but a few of the residents down in Sanctuary hills have been enrolled, and several from Concord as well. Vault-Tec supervisors came this week to do technical review with me. This vault is ready to open. I can only imagine what wonders our residents will get to witness. The notion of leaping forward in time – I almost wish I could join them and see the promise of our future realized."_

 

"I don't see the problem here. It doesn't seem any different from any other Vaults.." Preston added as he joined me and Nick on the other side of the desk. "Vault-Tec's known to have used human subjects."

"It gets worse."

 

_"It's happened. Were lucky that most of the staff was nearby when the early warning came through. We had less notice than expected, but only Nordhagen was missing when we sealed the entrance. Resident Admittance went rather smoothly. Everyone made it, even the family that waited until the last minute. It was the part afterwards that became a bit more inconvenient._

_The wife of the crazed soldier seemed to recognise Otto and was about to make a scene, even her husband made restraints just as we was about to close the door to his pod. I hope he hasn't taken too much damage as we force him back inside his seat. Her scream as he froze was horrible._

_Thankfully Otto was quick and had a syringe with sedative ready. But even then she was hard to handle as she struggled and had to receive a second dose. She even cursed as she fell and was put inside her pod._

_I'll never forget that expression as she rose her fist and promised to have my hide."_  

 

The rest of stood stunned, silent and Preston swallowed a big lump in horror. In the beginning I had counted her as lucky. Many Vaults without any survivors dotted the landscape, all over the Us. At least she had come out alive. From the stories, few as they are, I thought her to be lucky.

But something had alarmed her. She knew something was off the moments she stepped inside the Vault.

 

"Come on already! Let's hurry up and explore this damn Vault and be done with it."

"You're right." Nick sighed as he looked at MacCready stomp around the place in anger. "Sorry. The Blueprints are right here. The Vault ain't too large and only have one floor. Let's spread out, see if we can find something further in."

 

"Danse." I heard from the side. "We need to talk." 

I merely ignored her and continued forward. I could even hear a smack from behind. As I turned I saw the guy with the glasses wave around his hand and blow on it, while Victoria gazed in the other direction.

 

We took the tunnel to the right, continuing further in. An electric field was in the way. We would have ignored it if it hadn't been for the tracks. Another body rested in the middle of the field. It still twitched around on the floor, stuck between two large beams sending it back and forth.

"Poor sod." Valentine whispered as he shook his head. "He didn't look that old."

Fact is he wasn't. Because I recognised him, even in his swollen, pale state. He had been a young recruit from maybe five years ago from New Vegas. Back then he had nothing and was stuck in the street, pumped with drugs. Now he was ready to get married. What the hell was Arthur up to, sending my old recruits hunting after my newer ones? Was this a revenge? Towards me?

"..There. Danse."

The blood the synth referred to was fresher in this part. I felt my heart thrash inside, ready to explode.

What if she hadn't made it? The soldiers had already come this far. From the looks of it the tracks looked more as is she had been pulled now. 

 

And then, we saw it.

 

One of the halls, where Victoria, Preston, Macready and the guy in glasses stood, ready by giant and cold pods. It smelled horrible.

That sweet stench of corpse.

And it was quiet.

Incredibly quiet. The only sound made was that from the water sipping, dripping out from the tanks. Where the rotten bodies already had begun to fall apart from moisture and insects alike. From the look everyone had on their faces we probably all agreed.

This place is a tomb.

_"One after one died through asphyxiation--They suffocated in their almost frozen state."_

"Wait, look."

Nick was at the end of the hall, where one of the freezes had been opened. It must have been for quite some time, for the leather inside was dry. Next to the side we could see a name hastily written on a little sign.

"Sol.. Wah? "

"Something, something Freeman."

_"Call me Blue. Everyone else does."_

 

"No wonder she kept the nickname Piper gave her." Nick shook his head with a snort, then a smile. _"Solveig."_

"How come you know about it?" Preston asked as he rose one of his brows. The synth shrugged his shoulders as he observed the little note at the tank.

"I knew of her mother.. Sort off. The original Nick did."

I stood next to him, letting my hand follow along the seat of the pod, ignoring him for the moment. This had been her cage. Not long ago she had fallen asleep in a different world from the one we were living in now. I had always tried to pronounce her name, but failed miserably.

It made me somewhat wondrous that she would have told me of her name, while the rest only knew her by Blue.

It made me happy that she valued our friendship that much that she would risk exposing her name to me.

 

"Hey, there's blood here!"

All of us looked down and on the little platform in front of the cage on the other side. Just as the rest of the pods it was closed.

But unlike the rest, it was empty.

 

I, as well as the rest suddenly froze.

Had someone else awoken and strutted about the Commonwealth?

 

Preston squinted his eyes as he made it closer, then, with a bit of surprise gasped.

"Nathan Freeman."

 

Nate.

 

He had been dead.

She told me he was dead.

But where was he?

"The seat's still wet. Someone's been here recently. Oh.. There's blood inside.."

I fell to the back of the group, feeling the anger swirl in me.

It didn't take me too much time to come up with the answer. Had the Brotherhood taken his corpse as payback? It was still fresh, in a sense. And he came from a time where people were insanely healthy in comparison to today. He could prove to be invaluable for research. Sickening. Absolutely disgusting. It was a thing I knew to be important to our scribes but I didn't want to think they would play with the dead like that. How would we be different from those before if we took to such measurements?

"Now what?" MacCready sighed as he let his weapon fall back on it's place. "We got no leads. The trail ends here."

 

"You know how she got out, don't you?"

 

Victoria was at my side, I didn't brush her off this time as she tapped her hand tenderly against the breastplate of my power armor.

"There's only one way in, and it was locked."

 

I stared at first, but then nodded, with a dry throat as the other possible explenation slowly appeared inside my skull. 

"I know." 

 

But I hoped, and I nearly felt like praying that it wasn't the case. Because if they already had taken her already deceased better half..

 

What in gods name would they even want to do with her?

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> References. Many, many references.
> 
> So.. Victoria and Glory is the same person. Victoria was a real character from Fallout 3 who worked with the railroad.
> 
> MacCready lived close to Vault 87, where the FEV was experimented on the population inside the vault. It's where you find Fawkes. With an dlc you can survive, but thought that it would be interesting to go with the death ending. So The Lone wanderer, (protagonist from Fallout 3), became a feral ghoul next to his da-da. They now growl together in harmony, still stuck inside that radiated control room.
> 
> I do think Maxon is a nice guy to some extent, that he truly does care--Unfortunately only about humans. But he is young and high from expectations put on him. But sparing Danse just like that was a bit out of character. It would have made more sense if we'd have to kill the elder to ensure that Danse could live on. So I blame it to be infatuation from his part instead. Eheheeehe.
> 
> MacCready's rather young. He must've gotten Duncan when he was around eighteen or something. Or maybe even younger.


	5. Für Elise

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WARNING. This following chapter contains spoilers from dialogues with father related to the later part of the Institute quest chain. I'd advise against reading if you wish to discover that for yourself.

 

Slow, drifting. 

The melody from the piano was a slur in the end in my mind.

Calling, _bringing_.

 

They were sounds I haven't heard for two decades now. Two centiuries. And as they filled my ears, they thrilled me to follow the notes that still remains inside my brain. They had ever since I first heard them from when I was a child. I may not have played in years, but I can still follow the small, black dots on my leg with my fingers, imagining which key to press next.

Dull.. But even in their demise, awakening.

Passionate.

_Andante._

  

I felt like a child again, drifting between wake and sleep in the small musicroom with the many and overstuffed bookshelves. With mom, as she slowly pinned down the tangents on the Ebenholtz--Ebony--winged piano. The wedding gift from my father.

Trapped like a little bird, but happy just the same. And just as gracefully, I could feel her incredibly smooth and gentle hand dance over my head, giving one stroke after another as she clinked away on the songs she worked on. Her next melody, that would be her message to the world.

 

Sluta.

Sluta slåss.

 

It took me embarrassingly enough more than a few blinks before I finally could make out the shapes around me. But even then everything seemed a whole lot different than I expected.

Gone was the rusty ceiling. Gone were the smell of old, musty water. Gone were the irritating, blinking of the dying lights. Gone were the distinct humm of the crushed pair of lamps hanging from the roof. And gone were the forced grunts from the air conditioner that failed to deliver the fresh from the outside world.

Instead I was met by a light. The harsh, unforgiving kind that would stick your eyes out from their places in their sockets.

Everything sounded so different, so alien. And yet familiar at the same time.

 

A dream, then.

A dream where I had been transported away. I could even feel the softness of a hand next to mine.

I smiled.

 

"Nate.. Släck.." I murmured as my eyes in surrender for the bright light sealed shut.

 

The air felt fresh and easy to breathe. And it _smelled_.

Not old, rotten wood. Not murky and dirty water. Not the rusty, sweat-like, spicy metal.

But clear and fresh, like a cold frosty breeze. Easy and kind as it ventured through my lunges.

What a horrible dream.

 

Aroused from the freshness I fell back in the incredible softness against my back even deeper. And I breathed, _breathed_ for the first time in what seemed like ages. I felt incredibly tired. But it was more of a pleasantly tired along with that numbness in my fingers and toes.

I cannot remember the last time I gulped down air like that--Truly swallowed something as simple as fresh oxygen before going down the vault. It was a thing I missed from living on the countryside, even if Sanctuary was placed rather far from the lively light and noise from a city.

 

It was then I realized that it was no dream.

That everything, in fact,  _did_ happen. 

That the world around me I just one moment ago thought to have been a wicked fantasy was real. And how different it was from how it used to be.

 

Shaken by this fact I took a new but all to sudden breath. The payment of this act appeared harsher than the revelation of the so-called dream.

As I drowned in the oxygen I felt the sting of the burn.

 

It hurt. More than anything I've ever felt.

Especially my back and legs. Tired. Like my whole body was aching all over. It took me by surprise and once again my eyes went up, unable to hide the agony I felt. The colors were so much more vibrant and annoying and the sounds all blurred out.

Drugged.

I didn't think more off it as I heard another irritating sound echoing inside my head. Desperation. Confusion. Hurt. It especially hurt when the sound of the chair's feet screamed as it was brought aside entered my ears. My hand went up to my head, trying to take away the sounds.

How the pulse in my skull screamed. How my breaths boomed inside my brain. But most of all : The false promise of my lost life that the piano delivered.

It was first when I for one moment thought I could make out the shape of someone above me my hands dropped.

It wasn't a dream. But it had to be one.

Why else would _he_ be here?

Desperate my hands caught the fabric of the shadows collar as I launched myself up.

 

"Danse?!"

 

Once again I was brought back to the reality that my wishful thinking had deceived me by. When I felt his hands squeeze tightly around mine I knew of my mistake. That the dark, green, almost honey-colored eyes that became more clear as I felt the thin, smooth palms around my rough fingers actually didn't belong to my Paladin.

But of another rejected love.

I really shouldn't feel surprised to see him. But I did. Surprise swallowed me as I instead of Danse, or even Nate, gazed on my own flesh and blood. And while I did I felt the same stab as I had felt the very same day I laid my eyes on him for the first time as a grown man.

Besides his eyes he was an exact copy of my own father. They had the same nose, the same cheeks. His voice and face all belonged to him. And ironically, he was my own child.

 _My_ boy. All grown up.

 

_"Shaun.."_

 

His pupils shrinked somewhat when my hand made contact with his cheek. As I, with a mixture of both surprise and awe, whispered his name.

For I truly did feel awe.

Had he rescued me? Despite me leaving?

 

Despite telling him no?

 

It was a complexed situation, but I didn't think that bad of it. The only thing I dreaded was the day when he would join the earth before me.

He opened his mouth, as if to say something but then closed it shut, moving from my grasp. I saw his hand twitch almost immediately when I unintentionally dropped my mouth along with my gaze. Instead my eyes focused on my hands. Away from his face. I think he still looked at me. It was hard to tell.

Everything was a blur. My head, my legs. And from this numbness, while my body decayed, I only felt the ache inside my chest even more.

 

He clearly did not feel the same as I, judging from the way he thought the inside of my palm to be disgusting.

I would tell myself, repeatedly, that It didn't matter that much.

Or..

Well.

It did. It _did_ hurt.

But I did not blame him for his situation. I had never been there for him. I could never ask him to love me back.

Then my thoughts was brought back to the reality as I took notice to my new surroundings. 

 

I was inside the Institute. Who else but them had those clinically white walls along with the blue-like polished concrete floor? He clearly saw the irritation in my eyes, for once again, through his own initiative, his hand was placed on mine.

"You were badly injured. We were the best chance of getting you into better health."

I could not help but to frown.

How could he know about the chase? And how did he know I would seek shelter in the Vault? It didn't really take me long to figure out how. So instead of asking my eyes simply ventured to my left arm, where my missing pip-boy usually would have left a heavier hand for me to carry.

 

The chip.

 

The one allowing me access to their transportation device. It should have been clear that Doctor Li would implement something more then just the ability to transport myself.

Why not record what I had been doing in the meantime? 

 

He clearly saw the irritation in my expression. Sighing his hand left. "What else could I have done?"

"I'm not entirely surprised." When he was about to speak I lifted my right hand. "I know I would have done the same." My answer somewhat seemed to shock him, for once again his mouth opened a little. It was the later part that made it close. "But what I fail to understand is why you even would save me."

"Because you are--"

"We're enemies, Shaun."

His frown instantly deepened. "True. But you haven't killed any synths ever since your discovery.." Here he leaned closer with an expression I yet had to receive from him during our short relationship. it infuriated me. Because I could not read what he felt.

"..And you left the Brotherhood."

 

Right then I felt a shiver follow my spine.

Shaun knew I had been a member of the Brotherhood of steel?

My hand went to my chest or throat more precise. When I couldn't find it I felt the shock and stress walse in. After a moment of fussing around I finally felt the stress built settle down. It settled when I finally found it. When I finally could feel the thin and warm metal plate against my fingers.

My holotags still remained.

Or rather, Danse's.

"I figured it was personal to you."

The goofy smile vanished as I felt the strike of fear again. He had been keeping his eyes on me this whole time. I shouldn't have been so ignorant. And Danse had been a synth belonging to them. That was years ago, both he and Shaun had aged and changed.

But what if he could recognise him? Sometime in the future.

Danse would always be hunted in my company. And it was my fault he was thrown away from the Brotherhood.

 

It was clear that I had messed with the wrong people. That I had underestimated the skills of the Institute.

A part of me had felt relieved that I only had uploaded minimal information about the Institute. He would not be able to trace this act back to me.

 

When Elder Maxon demanded the tape I had on me I felt fear. The Brotherhood was too strong already. More power could tip the balance far too much.

I didn't dare to give him everything.

Clearly I had done wrong. Because he still had the information from the Bioscience division. The small amount that I uploaded, should Virgil ever want to come up with a cure or antibodies against the FEV. But there still was something on there, wasn't there?

It had been clear when I looked it through.

All the DNA from the Institute, all the bloodties.

Mine, Shaun's.

And Danse.

If I never had given Maxson that tape, Danse would have been free. He would have been safe.

But then again, for how long?

Danse cannot be the only synth within the Brotherhood. But while Danse appeared oblivious of his true nature, others within the organization might not be.

Surely they in the Institute, somehow, infiltrated more than just the Commonwealth.

Hell, the NCR's president might as well be one.

 

I need to get out of here. I need to tell him to go away. Anywehere, somewhere safe. 

Away from me.

 

"Why did you follow?"

"You were chased." Shaun countered with a scoff. "What else should I have done? Alone, running through the Vault you wouldn't have been able to make it far, resourceful as you are--Don't worry! Your assaulters are dead and the brotherhood would not know by whom."

 

I could not help but to stare as I saw the pleased grin my boy held as he looked to the side. 

 

Dead?

 

He killed them?

He turned back, seeing me flustered seemed to suprise him, because he frowned as the door opened.

"X6-88 did what was necessary to see to your protection."

I looked to the side, where a new man entered. Tall, dark and and very hollow. Empty. Like there was no soul behind the toned glass of his shades. As I stared at the dark-skinned man in the sunglasses who came closer he didn't even nod, didn't smile. He simply looked down on me.

"Good day, ma'am."

I had never felt as frightened as I did then.

I even failed to nod in greeting. Because even if he, or.. 'It', might have uttered the words I don't doubt for one second that he actually didn't have the capacity to meant it. It made me feel even more uncomfortable as I recognised the robe he wore.

"A.. Courser."

"They are our best choice of arsenal." Shaun added in what I reflected as pride. "Extremely dangerous--Of course you know this already."

 

Another memory entered my head as I and Dogmeat had assaulted the black haired man--Synth--Who had skills and powers beyond any normal man. That had been one of the worst fights in my life. It was a wonder that I even could make it through it. Danse had been shocked to see me crawl back to the Prydwen. Angry for not asking for him. I figured I would need every advantage of stealth that day.

A miscalculation.

A few shots at its head hadn't been enough to see it fall. Obviously the knights following me didn't know of this, for they had walked right inside the jaw of the lion.

They were dead as soon as they pointed their guns at me.

 

"Your lucky he was there to save you. Had it not been for X6 you might have ended up a puddle of sand just like any other of their enemies." Shaun said and I couldn't help but twitch at that.

I know how close it had been. I just don't remember the last part.

"I don't beleive in luck." I added, surly as I stared forward. Shaun was about to protest when the synth went closer to him, saying something that forever would surprise me.

"You do your mother a disservice, sir." Here he looked back on me, but I couldn't read the expression in his eyes because of the dark shades of his glasses. Although I doubt that there was anything there to begin with. "She handled herself well in battle. I only had three targets left when I reached her."

 

The corner of Shaun's mouth seemed to curl up just slightly, before he looked back on me with that strange look again. Now I understood what it was.

He was calculating the situation.

"I don't have any sort of doubts about that."

 

Feeling a bit uncomfortable by this certain kind of false praise I ignored the men. Instead I thought of something else.

Was I their prisoner?

"What now?"

Shaun hummed as he went to the side. "That is entirely up to you."

From the tone of suspicion I felt trapped. He was my son, true. But we had never known one another. Not really. I had once, a long time ago, beleived that a mother always would love her child unconditionally.

But..

The way my son smiled as the Synth told him about my former comrades death scared me.

I'd like to believe that we're all different and that our backgrounds shapes us. But our genetics play a big part in that as well. Given enough time, given enough mental torture..

 

.. Would he appear the same as Nate had done when he returned from the war?

 

Now, when I had been away from Nathan I could easily determine how unstable he had been. Nate had always been a bit of a coward. Something I had found adoreble as a teengager. His looks only added to the charisma. I now realize that it not might have been love, but a desire to protect from my side. Or perhaps I only had taken what has been thrown my way. I should have seen it coming. I mean--His mother was treated like an object by several men during his upbringing.

Maybe that's why Dad was so against our marriage to begin with.

Maybe he saw where it could lead. Where Nate's needing characteristics could end up.

 

And maybe that's why I had let him so close.

Why I never told him no.

Maybe that's why I never fought him off when he forced my legs apart.

 

It was now painfully clear to me. 

Nathan shouldn't have been the one thrown into war.

 

It should have been me.

 

I looked at my grown boy, wondering over who he was, behind that cold surface. Had he ever been loved? Happy? Wife? Or even weirder, a husband? I won't lie and say I didn't have my issues about it. In my days they would have been thrown into prison for displaying love for the same gender.

But then again, we didn't live in my age. Old norms weren't what they used to be. This was a new world. Maybe not my home.

But it was his. And I would know of it, if I could.

 

"Tell me of your childhood." I asked, and he turned, looking somewhat puzzled. "Were you happy?"

After a moment of silence he folded his hands behind his back, venturing forth and back the the side by my bed. "As happy as you could expect." He answered. It was not cold, but mostly matter-of-fact. "I didn't know of my parents and I didn't really care to. I had everything a child could want from the Institute."

"I gathered as much." I said. When he rose his brows I let my eyes down on my hands above the blanket, realizing how bitter I had sounded. "I didn't wish to impose anything. I'm just.. I want to know you better."

"..Why?"

Here I finally snapped. "Because you're _my_ son!" I saw his eyes turn cold, and I once again removed my gaze, chewing my lip for a long time. "Forgive me, Shaun. I don't expect you to love me or even want to get to love me. I just.. I looked for so long, and when you turned out--"

 

"To be an old man?" 

 

I stared up, feeling my heart cleave in two.

He had said that with such distaste.

"--To be alive." I finished. "You're.. You're my son." 

He stared as I leaned closer with my hand in the air. I wanted to embrace him, so badly, but when I saw the disgust in his eyes I moved the hand away, quickly. I felt like and idiot. As if ice had frozen the blood in my veins.

He sighed.

 _Ahh._.

I was just a convenience. But instead of giving into my anger I swallowed it and looked away.

 

Why did I have to try all the time? He knew that I looked for him. He must have.

Did he even want a relationship with me? That certain thought was a ghost, haunting me all the time.

Was there even room for love in him?

Bitter I brought the sheet to the side and let one of my legs roll over the edge when I felt his hand, pushing me back.

 

"You're not well. You should rest."

It frightened me how weak he felt the strength in his arm. He was old, yes. But not _that_ old. And his breaths seemed more hurried and exhausted like if he had been running.

Not to mention how pale his complexion was, even for someone living under the surface.

"Don't be silly." I murmured as I ducked away from his gaze. "I'm perfectly well."

It was when he spotted the burn on the outside of my thigh that he snatched back his hand. The surface of the wound had wrinkled up. To me it looked incredible well, because I knew it healed.

  

"That's a perfect example of how glad I am to be spared from a life in the Wasteland."

 

But to shaun it was different. Because he saw it as something disgusting.

My eyes instantly lit up in anger and he hurried to reach out his hand. "I know to you I was kidnapped. But don't you see?" Here he smiled so bright that a bit of his gum was glowing through the thick, white beard. "The institute rescued me." Here he fell back a little as his eyes went down as he roamed the room in thought. I ended up staring at him back.

 

Nate used to do that when he was deep in thought. His mouth would open just slightly and his eyes dance around.

Back then I had constantly kept him busy--Busy so he wouldn't have the time to think. It always caught him into darker places. When it caught him he would be impossible to reach.

It nearly drove me to an exhaustion point. I can see that now. Totally absorbed by his every need, by dad's every need. Because when he had the time to think he had the time to relive.

He was forced back to the regret.

Maybe that what's made me so attracted to Danse. With him I could feel safe and sound. I could think on my own. I didn't need to check his every need.

  
_"Blue.."_

I miss him. So terribly much.

But I had been the one to hurt him! Once this was over. Once I was done..

 

"Both of us, really."

 

_"At least we have the back-up"_

 

I stilled as I reentered the room and the harsh reality of his words. Because right then--Right at that moment I felt like taking my hands around his throat and squeeze so hard that his eyes could pop out.

And I don't mean Kellogg.

But the one Kellogg _took_.

 

"I was the perfect candidate." Shaun continued, not noticing how my fists slowly and ever so slowly tightened together in my lap. "Every synth in here is based from my DNA. And if something should go wrong.. Well. You understand."

I did indeed. 

But while the thought marveles him, it sickens me.

If I had been reawakened and taken by them only to discover of my sons death I would have slaughtered every one of them.

 

I would have **killed** them all.

 

Because they had harmed my boy and used him as a guinea pig. They had treated us like property. Then they would have the nerve to use me as well? I'd rather die then to aid them in their sick and false fantasy of purification.

"I'll admit, when I had you released from Vault 111 I had no expectations that you would survive out here, in all this."

 

This was the moment I truly felt cold and hurt. As if he threw a dagger right at me.

 

Shaun had been the one to release me.

It was **him!**

 

But he hadn't sought me up.

He hadn't intended to seek me out. I knew how hard it could be to love someone you never met, truly I did. I never knew my grandmother from Sweden and every visit felt strained as she kissed my cheeks and caught my hair between her wrinkled hands. As she expected me to be just like her own daughter and carry myself as her, _sing_ as her.

How her broken and funny accent would ask why I didn't love music just as her and mom had done.

When I failed to deliver she somewhat understood, but the love she had developed, the view of me was different from what she was seeing in front of her. The fantasy of what her only grandchild was like. 'Mormor' Agnes had been kind. There was no denying that. But after mom's death we became distant and our relationship became as vacant as Shaun's and mine were now.

 

This was the first time I actually understood how she felt. How shrewd our realities were.

 

But this.. This was not my fault this time. I didn't put barriers between us because grandmother expected me to be different.

Shaun had done that, all by himself.

Now, as he revealed one of the many truths about my isolation from him his every word sank the knife of his betrayal deeper and deeper towards my core and soul.

He was unknowingly splitting my heart apart.

 

"But not only to do so, but manage to find me. To infiltrate the Institute itself.." Here he looked up while my eyes were pinned on my hands. "Extraordinary."

 

"Your unconditional love is overwhelming."

 

I felt his eyes on me, while mine resided on my fists in front of me. The rage on the breaking point was worse than the burn of his shock.

It wasn't hard for me to believe him as older. What made me surprised was how he felt at peace with it. But now I knew. Now I knew why.

 

He didn't care.

He won't ever care.

  

His hand landed on my shoulder. "I can accept you're offended. But you need to understand that I had no love to feel. We've been strangers until now, you and I."

"Why not let me out?"

His tone became a bit strained as he heard my teeth gnaw together. "Until I became director, I had no idea you where there. And after.. There was no initially.. Logical reason to do so. Certainly there was no necessary reason to keep you suspended.. I.. Well. I suppose I wanted to see what would happen. An experiment, of sorts. I had no idea what kind of woman you where. Would the commonwealth corrupt you, as it has everything else? Would you even survive?"

 

His eyes widened in horror as I launched forward.

 

I never reached him though--The courser had his hand around my throat in the next moment.

"I'd advise against taking to violence."

Shaun's face stared in wonder and fear as I merely kept my eyes pinned on him.

"I know you must feel angry and confused. But believe me it was for the greater good."

 

**Greater good?!**

 

All this time he could have had me released!

All this time we could have been together as a mother and child!

 

I would probably not have minded the experiment with synths, had they explained it.

Because when it really comes to it ; all they ever needed was some blood.

 

I would gladly have given it to them--Had it not been for their shrewd agenda. What really got to me was the way they went around this problem. The schemes and thefts. The deaths on their conscience.

That couldn't be allowed!

A greater future my ass!

Their future was drenched in blood.

 

And if I had anything to say about it ;

Their own!

 

This time I bit down so hard in my lip that it started to taste like iron. The synth holding around my throat didn't look as calm when I aimed for his throat, right at his adam's apple with my fist. He fell back, grunting in what must be pain. Normally I would have felt wondrous about that.

Now all I heard was a pulse. A ringing in my ear.

 

The false and wronged tune of Beethoven in the radio next to the door.

 

Shaun fell back and I assaulted, but instantly fell to my knees as I was brought back by the Iv thread connected to the bag in my arm. I went around, pulling it out from my arm and looked around again.

  
And then I felt the sting.

It took instant effect and I could feel my feet giving away and even the grunt became slured as I breathed out a curse. Shaun was breathing hard as I collapsed back in his arms.  

"Please! Can't we have a civil conversation?!"

He barked a bit unsteadily and I fell back in his arms. I merely stared at him as I was cast adrift.

 

The words were right at the tip of my tongue. Ready to scream.

But when I saw the concern in his eyes I held it back.

 

Even after all he had done. After those who had taken him from me had done I didn't have the heart to tell him.

Not even now. Not even now I dare to tell him.

 

To tell him how disappointed I am.

 

 ~*~

 

Once again I heard the irritating clicking of the piano.

The tune was the same as when I first awoke. The same as when I had fallen asleep.

FALSE. 

 

I want away from here. Away from this blasted place.

Away from the people who had ruined my life.

 

"I think you look wrongly on the synths."

 

He had been sitting there, in his chair for a long time. How long I don't know. I had simply continued to let my eyes remain shut as I felt the effects of the drug slowly vanish.

"You made that pretty clear the first time we met." I heard him sigh and walk up up, stepping closer to the bed. 

..And I felt my wrist chained at the side of the bed.

 

"Don't give me that." He sneered as I now opened my eyes. "You attacked me first."

A snort left as I let my head venture to the side and the giant round window. I was inside another room. This one was smaller, more like a confinement rather than a guest wing. The third floor from the looks of it, rather high up and with a good view of the landscape around us.

Away from prying eyes.

I felt like Mr. Rochester wife, trapped and hidden away from the world where none could see his shame.

 

Shaun wore a different shirt underneath his lab coat--Meaning that another day had dawned. Or evening, judging from the lights setting.

 

"The synths are our creations. You need to understand this."

"They live and breathe, do they not?" I countered with my face towards the window. "They even adapt."

He hummed a little at that. "That, is true, in a sense I suppose."

 

"You never considered to at least try to help?"

 

My tone was harsh, as it should be. In truth I was the parent and should be the one questioning his choices in life. He only sighed again. I didn't really need to explain.

He knew exaktly _whom_ I meant.

"We've tried once, and look what it gave us. You of all should know, judging from history, how unfateful missionaries quests have been in the past."

I sighed with a nod and finally gave in to the smile I felt brewing as my head turned back to him. "Just as your grandfather. History Nerd to the core."

He looked at me, a bit surprised by the looks of it. An uncertain chuckle suddenly left him, along with a tiny smile. "It is a rather intriguing subject, one who needs to be remembered."

 

"So far as I've seen you seek to eradicate history." I said as I observed his facial features. The ones looking so incredibly alike my own dad. "By erasing it you also erase the guilt."

He looked even more pale now.

But frankly, I cared little. 

He had taken me back to this blasted Institute without consent to begin with.

 

"The guilt of what?"

His eyes rose up as he took a spin around the room, before finally looking back with a disgusted expression as one of his fingers lazely gestured back at me. "As far as I can tell it was people like _you_ who demolished us."

 

It wasn't the the people in the saloons, not the paperboys or the farmers. Not the people in the stores and stands. Not the mothers and their children who yet had to commit to their first white lie. 

But _science._

Science killed us.

 

_"You found another kind of battlefield after all."_

 

Shaun's voice.. It was just as threatening and disappointed as that of my grandfather when I walked through the door to his room in the hospital where he was resting. The few days before he passed away. The day I told him of my stipendium and of the mentor I had received.

Everyone else was envious of me.

But Grandpa.. He had been disgusted.

 

I now knew it was wrong to name my son after him. Because Shaun was nothing like my grandfather.

I wanted to change things. For better or worse.

 

Too late I realized for the worse.

 

"I didn't realize the records of my work during my university years would have been shown to you."

"And never did I realize my own mother could have been one of the leading minds on one of the greatest constructions in history."

My gaze became dark as I could see the fruit of my labor before me again. But now, two hundred years later I felt sick, seeing as it was rebuilded for the soul purpose of having my own child blown into pieces right as we speak. What had started as an idea became a weapon of war. And the one I had given the proposal too would laugh as I expressed my worry.

It was not entirely my design. I was merely holding the clipboard.

 

As a young and eager student getting high from the compliments I eagerly demonstrate my knowledge around robotics. Project after project. And when she was finnished, my boss couldn't be more proud. It wasn't money calling for my inspiration.

It was the challenge.

He had been extremely charismatic and a famous technician. Everyone would gasp as we saw him enter the corridor of the old university. And as he stepped inside the classroom. As soon as the teacher announced the chance to be his apprentice--As soon as our eyes locked, I _knew_ he would pick me.

We were a great team. I dare say that. Had it not been for my husband I would probably have thanked yes to his proposal and moved back to Las Vegas with him. Maybe I would have said yes. It was incredibly teasing. But judging from how others who denied him their time it would have been foolish to. His brother had not been so lucky.

I'm glad I didn't. Not after the revelation of what his project had ended as.

  

_"My dear, dear girl. Nothing to impede progress. If you want to see the fate of democracies, look out the windows._

_I produce robotics. What the army does is their business._

_You should know better than to judge._ "

 

 

"Science.. And intelligence seems to be our best trait. The desire to know more. About.." Here Shaun gestured big as he walked the room. "Everything." 

"Vita."

 

He turned, staring at first. But then he slowly nodded with a wide grin. _"Life!"_

 

While my grandfathers grandfather had been a man of death, his son had been one of life.

A doctor who saved more than a fair deal of lifes. His son, in turn, my grandfather, became a soldier. A thing he later regretted, but never told me to shy away from. He meerly told me to protect. I thought a warrior could do that. When I was denied military service out of my mother's ilness, and gender, I decided to study medecine.

Fisher wanted to prolong life.

Once I thought I wanted to stop cancer.

And Shaun..

Shaun wants to _change_ life.

 

That much was obvious from seeing his children walking around outside the window on the lower levels.

He and those before him had created a world, unimaginable for me, had I not seen it with my own eyes. They had breached the gates of heaven and wielded the same weapon as God. But the creatures in his Garden weren't happy citizens.

They looked trapped.

 

"Am I your prisoner?"

 

I don't know if he felt hurt by that question. Possibly not, from the blank expression I received back.

"No. You are free to leave at any time. But I think you'd be happy to stay."

There was something eager in his voice and admittingly curious I tilted my head to the side.

"Why?"

He smiled then with an expression I only could describe as hungry. As in, hungry to know over my reaction. A man of science and curiosity was testing me. "You looked at the synth child with an open mind. I think.. I hope you will do this now. I figured you'd be lonely. Don't worry, far as he can tell he's the real deal. Just as young Shaun. You will have a family again."

Confused I continued to look at my grown son as he stepped towards the end of the room and opened the door.

 

But as soon as I saw it open, as soon as I saw it step in I felt like I could faint.

As soon as I saw the face of one I once had loved I felt sick.

Like I was about to puke right there. I looked at my boy, feeling the sickness grow.

  
I rarely cried as a child. The tears sort of dried up when mother died. I had to be strong, for father. When Nate came back I had to stay strong for him. Before this encounter, I thought I could cry out to Danse, and even Shaun.

A mistake I now came to realize. There was nothing stopping the shivering fear streaming down my neck as I heard the genuine tone of the copy. His hands were so, so disgusting. His voice wrong. And his eyes.. Both the one holding me tight to it's heaving chest, and the one observing me from the side of the room. The pair of eyes who I once had adored.

They were now just plain and evil.

Shaun's way of showing love was just crude and wicked.

Wrong.

For the first time in life I felt regret.

Regret over the life I had carried inside my womb.

 

What the hell have I given birth to?

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I always thought rust smelled sort of spicy..
> 
> And the sole survivor, can you guess who she worked for? Hmm? Hmm? *giggles in the corner*
> 
> Für Elise was first introduced to the world about forty years after Beethoven's death. But because of his sloppy handwriting people still don't really know what the original song actually sounded like. I always thought the classical interpretation sounded a bit stressed and hectic. A feeling I wanted to implement in this particular part of the story.
> 
> I chose the chapters name because of this error. I thought that perhaps Solveig thought that the real Shaun wasn't what she first had expected. That the original Shaun was much more different.
> 
> Forgot to mention, Solveig is pronounced like "Solwaay."
> 
> Translations :  
> Sluta. Sluta slåss- Stop. Stop fighting.  
> Släck - In this particular sentence : put out the light.  
> Mormor - Grandmother from the mother's side. Mor is mother, put together two times. Basically its "mothers mother".
> 
> Vita (latin) - Life


	6. Unlikely, Valentine

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> First, I want to apologize about the VERY late update.
> 
> Alot has happened this last year, I've moved to a different town, gotten a new job, got into a relationship and even got engaged. But then I got depressed, quit my job and got a new one. It's been hectic.
> 
> Tomorrow, the 25 of July I will celebrate my one year with my love. So I'm exited.
> 
> I dunno how I will continue, but I asume I'll release chapters here and there, not on settled dates. I hope you'll understand.
> 
> And I hope you enjoyed this chapter. :)

"Nick? Is that you?"

  

Ellie's surprised gaze instantly changed into somber when she saw the devastation that the synth couldn't hold back. Silently he looked away and closed the door behind him before wandering further inside the room, trying to ignoring the sympathetic look that his assistant would give him.

".. Nothing?"

"She's gone." He hummed back. "No clues, nothi--" 

Here he stopped mid-sentence as he went deep in thought while he fell down in his chair by the desk.

 

Truth was he got  _one_ theory. And despite the disappointment for her action he knew that she must have been desperate to even have that option coincided. Agonized even. For Nick, Nick he _knew_. Knew how she despised and absolutely loathed those who she now had sought shelter from. Maybe that's why this disturbed him more than he would have liked to admit. To actually go on ahead and willingly do so felt a bit odd, if not random. It seemed like the lesser outcome. But then again, why weren't she deep inside the Vault?

Nick fell deeper down in his chair with crossed brows.

 

Why hadn't he been there?

Ellie did what she always would do when Nick came back home. She took his coat and when she was about to reach for his hat the Synth-Detective had placed his skeleton hand on it.

"I'll keep it, thanks."

Ellie's hand dashed back quicker than she had intended. She stared before finally lastly nodding as she went about the office. "..Of course, sir." 

Nick let out a breathless sigh as he folded his arms above his chest and observed as his assistant took his coat over to the rack on the wall. His frown only deepened as he saw her stiff posture and how long it took her to do so. Which only brought him to sigh again. The synth knew she had already had seen it. But he'd keep his mouth shut none the less.  Because Nick didn't want to worry Ellie with his thoughts. Not right now.

It wasn't before he saw a pair of long, delicate fingers brace the table's surface that he returned to the focus at hand.

Ellie gave him an uncertain smile as the few, yellowed documents landed in his hands.

"It's been quiet on this end, Mr.Valentine."

"As it was meant to be.." Nick hummed, distantly.

 

_"It's supposidly quiet, Nick."_

Eyes, dim, filled with sorrow. Pain, crossing over her brows. Meant to be quiet, meant to be a fresh start.

Yes, Sanctuary was suposed to be quiet. It still where, but in a whole different perspective. It had become that fresh start that she so longed for, and in time, doom. But it was only to bloom up into a whole new haven for new settlers by. Preston, along with the ghost of the past had rebuilded the newly created.

 

But, oh. False.

 

 

"I do like the water here."

 

Nick only looked up, startled by the sudden notion. As much as Nick hated to admit it, he had kept staring at Ellie's hands and not the papers in front of him. Disencouraged, not to mention not overly convinced he let out a forced breath.

Because he did not really know how to answer otherwise. 

Because he could not really appreciate it in the way she did.

And neither did she really need to offer him one to take for himself. After all, he couldn't consume it. After a few days when she first started to work for him she had finally learned that he didn't drink or eat. That he didn't even have the need for sleep.

All that he _did_ need was an open mind and a pair of ears from time to time.

 

 _His existence must be a lonely one_ , Ellie had thought the very first time they met.

She had only been a child back then, hardly a year over fifteen. But from the very first moment when he placed himself in between those raiders and her she had been smitten by that so very alien pair of eyes. The hum of his voice. The touch of his steel hand. She admired the will to constantly keep going, despite seeing everyone age and die from him. Yet he still surrounded himself with people. He still developed friendships. She had been tempted to ask him why, but thought it was best left unsaid. It might be that he never thought of it like that. And if she mentioned it, he would and dig himself deeper.

"And.. You haven't seen anything?"

By the irritated wave by the Synth's hand she instantly snapped her mouth shut.

He had taken her disappearance quite hard. He might try to reason, to appear oblivious, but she could tell. When it came to Nick she could always tell when something was amiss. But she thought the whole thing as rather strange ; Nick rarely let someone as close in as that Vault-Dweller. Not even Ellie. Maybe she reminded him of someone in the past. She didn't know and couldn't tell.

Which brought Ellie to a new way of thinking.

She did admire the Vault-dweller. She had saved Nick in the past and brought him back to her. But after all the time spent with her the Synth's assistant couldn't help but to feel a bit.. Jealous about it.

 

What was so good about her?

 

"I'll find her." Nick's voice boomed as he pulled the tip of his hat lower over his eyes.

 

Ellie instantly let out a breath through her nose, finished her cup with one swift go, turned, then took her own sweater that hung over the back of her chair. She had already pulled one arm through when she turned back to Nick, waking him up from his deep thoughts.

"I'm going to bed, if that's alright, Mr Valentine."

Nick snapped back to reality, looked up at the young girl, then at the repaired clock on the wall. He had not even noticed how late it was. It had been dark when they exited the Vault.

 

She had been waiting for him?

All those hours?

 

The detective slowly looked back towards Ellie, who stood ready by the door. Disencouraged he waved her to head back.

Ellie had insisted of tagging along this time, since she so colorfully had said that _'you always manage to be gone for long periods of times every time the Vault-Dweller calles for you'_. That in turn had led into another heated argument but after some time he then allowed it. Having some companionship would do him good. And he did enjoy having her along for the ride, even if he felt worried about having to look after her while on the road.

"Of course, Ellie. Take all the rest you need."

She nodded, a bit distantly as she closed the door.

He looked after her a bit longer, hoping..

 

Here he turned back to the reports on the table and picked one up with a vibrating sigh as he leaned even deeper into the 'comfy' chair that he, in reality, couldn't distinguish from soft or hard.

All he knew is that it was soft, but he couldn't feel the difference, because he felt no ache.

Another hum escaped him as he noticed this.

He had worked to get his voice more human-like and as far away from the synths that the institute constructed. All in order to be recognized. Despite all the flawing skin and pieces of metal showing he is still synth and could, if not careful, be mistaken for someone else. The chip from the old Mr Handy was no longer in use so he didn't really feel ashamed about borrowing it from the dead robot.

 _Dead_..

 _No_. He shook his head as he caught his own chin.

He could not afford to think her dead. He needed to keep going.

His eyes went to the side and towards the other house where only a few candles lit up the small bedroom.

 

_"Did Skinny do this to you?"_

 

His eyes dove down equally as fast from the reflection from the window-glass as he saw the deep cracks in his silicon skin.

He had often wondered if he should change his appearance, not just his hat or coat. Maybe he should try to apply new skin, or a wig.

Maybe he should get one of them fancy treatments to change the construction of his mug all together.

But he had grown used to the face he now wore, even if badly damaged. Changing it meant maybe disturbing the others. Besides, he could hardly even remembered what the man he had been copied from even had looked like.

 

There was no image in his head, just words from what others had told him.

The one he had been born from had, according to others, been a rather good-looking chap with a well-shaved, cleft chin and brown, well-oiled hair. His fathers ties had been Italian, his mother's side Jewish and they mostly came from New York. His favorite grub had been pasta with tomato sauce. He liked whisky on rainy days. He loved Jazz. Still does. Sol had humored him and spun a few tales when they spent the night in Goodneighbor. As they both came from the same time, they remembered the same shops, some of the people before the war. The best theaters, the best movies.

And most of all, he remembered his friend.

It was when he had listened to an old tape in his office when she stopped by that he had understood. Understood why he had thought her familiar. And when she pulled off her mask, he truly understood.

It was when he saw her sky-blue eyes along with her wheat-blonde hair for the very first time that he understood why he cared so much.

 

_"Uncle Nick!"_

Flahses, images he had told her once.

In reality, a dream. 

Their voices were remarkably alike.

Their eyes the same.

 

And most of all, the way the both of them could _smile_.

 

The child of his best friend he had thought as a sparkling bolt of energy had now grown up. It wasn't long after the discovery that he had come to grow to know something else.

Nostalgia.

It felt so different to talk with someone from his own time.

A bit refreshing.

 

But then he would remember that those memories wasn't his to remember and he would sink deep into thought, in which she clasped around his shoulder.

 

_"They're your memories as much as Nick's."_

 

Nick the synth might consider himself a copy of Nick the human. But Sol had seen them as two different individuals. Or twins. Or the synthetic one might be a son of the biological. Either way, the later version liked himself a bit better after that. 'He' stopped blaming 'himself' for liking the same things, remembering 'his' parents with warmth.

He would remember the days by the recording studio, laughing as they smoked and talked for hours without end. He would remember the soft caress of Jenny's hand as her fingers traced his wrinkles around his eyes. Earlier he would have felt ashamed. Ashamed for the love he somewhat still felt for her. Ashamed how the memories of her gentle touch still made his heart, well, theoretically, leap away.

He didn't remember everything, just flashes. But that was enough. Enough to make him feel the anger and hurt.

 

It was so strange. He can hear, see..

But he can not taste.

And neither can he  _feel._

Warmth, cold. Not even the slightest shiver with pain.

 

Nothing. 

 

And that is too much to have.

That nothingness.

It didn't go a week before someone commented how nice it would be to have a body without a need for sleep or pain.

That hurt. 

Because Nick can't remember the taste of bread. He can't remember what feeling sore was like to experience. What warmth feels like. He need to think, all the time before doing something. Because pain is a warning. That's why he lackes a hand and parts of his face.  _Nothing_ warnes him now from taking care of himself.

Truth is he wants to feel human. 'Cause he doesn't feel like one. 

When he saw Curie for the first time he felt a certain sting and eager. It was enough to make him think that perhaps he could become human again, to some extent anyway.

 

**Will you be ready to kill someone for that?**

The Detective quickly leaped up from his chair by the desk, looking back on his reflection in the glass, before turning his eyes away with shame.

That question, that one that kept bugging him still festered his mechanical mind. It would float up now and then. It had ever since he greeted Curie, not as a robot, but as a human being with his flawed hand.

And would he be willing?

 _No_.  _Never_.

Nick, if anyone, hates death.

And most of all he is afraid of it. And no matter how much he wants to be someone he doesn't want to kill someone else for it, bad, good--That doesn't matter. He doesn't want to be a synth who steal other's lives just to get one for himself. He doesn't want to loose his sanity for a goose chase.

That sort of jeopardy feels exaktly like Arthur and his knights as they sought the holy grail. But this was no holy mission sent out by god.

The Miss Nanny's feat had been possible through the death of a fellow synth. Sure, her brain had been reset to an endless sleep. But in Nick's eyes her action was the action of theft. 

If not murder.

None the less he still kept feeling that sting. That burn.

What he still keep feeling is jealousy.

And jealousy is a **sin**.

 

Many would undoubtedly think it as strange that a Synth would refer to biblical quotes, after all, he hadn't been given life the normal way. Perhaps the religious part of him had belonged to the old Nick. Or maybe it was something that had grown forth as he learned more and more about his current body. Maybe it was something brought forward from desperation.

A way to feel human again. To re-connect.

But despite how much he tries he'll never be one. No matter how much he reads through the bible he'll never get to feel peace or receive any answers.

And most of all he know there most certainly is no afterlife in Heaven waiting for him.

 

And he know there wont be an hell either. 

 

Because Nick, he is a programming. 

A bunch of wires along with plastic and metal. His soul is not real. Merely a copy from someone long since dead.

 _That_ made him frightened.

He does not have a single piece of flesh in, or on him. Yet he can see.

And worst of all he _remembers_.

 

Waking up in this new body had been a painful process.

Because then, he really thought he was Nick. He thought he had grown up with his parents on Boston Street. He thought his fiancee had been his. 

 

_"Christ. Look at you._

_You're not even **alive**."_

 

Then, boom. It was all a sham.

It was moments like those that made Nick happy to have his friends close at his back.

It was not about him or even her. It was about doing what's right. And she brings that out in him.

And.. 

Nick let away a deep breath as he stepped to the hall and took a quick peek inside the bedroom on the other side.

 

For all her graces, Ellie isn't not a beautiful sleeper. She snored and sometimes even drooled. He never had the heart to tell her that. She already sacrificed so much of her time to perfect her looks. It was his secret.

A secret thing he adored about her.

Innocence.

This world lacks that now. It is all about death and sacrifice. About who is the leader, who is fit to rule. The world is sick, but with Ellie it slowly turned better. She was his cure.

His and his alone. He had seen her devastated, happy all together. And it was for him to know. Only him.

He quickly let the blanket swoon over her naked shoulders. He stiffened as he saw her turn in the bed. He nearly laughed when he saw some hair that had managed to fall over her forehead and slowly let it slide over her ear.

Funny.

At times Nick thought he need her compassion and warmth like others need air to breathe.

 

_"Have you tried telling her?"_

 

Just as quickly as his hand had taken hold of her hair it fell back.

And then he fell back, back and out in the hallway once more.

Ellie always insisted on keeping taps on him. She is young, rather cute too. And after a few years he had asked her why she didn't bother seeking after a soulmate. He thought she wasted her time in his company.

 

From the flush coloring her face he had been able to tell.

And he knew he thought the exakt same thoughts.

But he knew, already back then, that the feelings disturbing him is wrong.

 

Because Ellie.. She will die one day.

 

She will age and whiter while Nick will remain just the same. Just like before. He will forever continue without any purpose while the rest will vanish away. Away and to far better places than the ones he were forced to walk. He hate those times, those times that he needed to stay put. He will never be able to follow the whole way. Which in his thoughts meant..

That there would be no point behind it.

 

He will never _feel_ her.

Nor will he be able to _give_.

He will just _be_.

 

And he _will_ be **_alone_.**

 

"Glory, come on.."

 

Suddenly interrupted in his train of thoughts Nick looked to the side and at the empty, one leveled home across the street. The crushed home where he saw the two strangers from yesterday walk. The guy had grabbed hold of the woman's arm, pulling her back just as she had been about to throw open the door the the old, wrecked house.

"He's obviously not worth the hassle. She ain't either."

"You don't know him like I do, Deacon."

"Do you honestly think he'd ever care about you synths? Just because he is one doesn't make him good!"

 

_"Do you think he'd ever care about people outside his cult?"'_

 

Once again Nick fell back in his memories that remained as fresh as if it just had occurred. The moment where her eyes, for the first time in their history widened with disbelief. Because Nick.. Nick didn't trust Danse. In turn, she had been looking incredibly angered by the Detective's predicament.

 

_"Sure, he's a synth now. But he'll always be reeking Brotherhood."_

_"Stop it, Nick. You're not my dad."_

_"Someone ought to be!"_

 

Someone ought to be.

'Cause, if you stop and think about it, she's a kid off her own. Twenty-four years ain't nothing in a world like this when you only lived in it for for one.

And that was the last time time he'd seen her before her disappearence. The time when she asked for his help to find Danse. He had said no. Out of necessity and for her own safety he had told himself when she walked out on him. He saw it as his own duty to protect her from the harsh reality he had come to know. Especially since his predecessor had been a close friend of her mother.

Out of petty differences, he later came to realize.

"Decon. Trust me. There's more to Danse than you know."

 

_"Danse is my mentor. He is my friend._

_I won't let Maxon take him away."_

 

Nick sighed yet again as he fell down in his chair.

Sol was not the only one who saw the good points in Danse. But what Glory wanted with the fellow synth bugged him. Far as he could tell, they were not in good terms. But Nick isn't an idiot either.

They knew one another from before.

She was likely an ol' flame. It made Nick's circuitry twitchy, but Danse was his own man. And his friend, her own woman. He would not put his nose where it didn't belong. He knew that much.

And he knew she would come back.

Because.. When it all comes to it..

 

She always does.

 

` ~~'. **.i**._.'i **I** i'._. **i**..'~~ ´

 

"Danse!"

 

 

And once again I was being forced into glare down on Victoria.

No, excuse me.

Glory. 

 

"Leave me alone already."

The new woman standing in front of me weren't called Victoria anymore. But in reality they were exaktly one and the same. Besides her haircut and name she weren't any different from before. Duing all those years she hasn't eveloped a single trait. She's just as impulsive, crazy and egoistic as before.

What I need is to think, to come up with a solution. But she's in the way.

"Won't you get it into your thick skull already? I'm trying to help you out here!" 

I went up from the desk and walked towards the exit, somewhere I could be left alone and in peace. To think.

"He could've tried to show some concinderation."

Irritated my eyes fell on the bloke by the door. He hung against the wall with his arms crossed over his chest. Despite it being almost pitch black he refused to have his glasses removed, which only made his shady apprearence even more unnerving.

"Get out." I growled as I turned around towards the bedroom. "I want nothing to do with you."

"Hey, what a shocker." Here he laughed as he went up from the wall and over to me and were Victoria were standing. "Are you really sure we need this guy?"

 

Once again she stood in my path, holding my bottle of whisky in her right hand. "She's inside, but that doesn't mean you should take it to the end of the bottle!"

My eyes remained in front as I stared angerly forward.

She's inside.

_"Back up."_

 

Both Nick and I knew that the Institute wanted more than just her son now. And none besides her knew how the machine that she had built worked back at the castle. Besides, it's broken.

I have no way of getting her back.

I'm not like her, a genious with machines or tech. I build, I repair guns. Compleatly useless now. There is abslutely nothing I can do about it. Nothing. The only one I know with enough expertice is Sturges, and he seemes like a bafoon. And the only other is..

Ingram.

But she thinks I'm dead.

Besides, she'd never help me now.

 

Not now when I'm a synth.

 

"There got to be a way."

Victoria sighed as she looked to the side. "No. Not even our own mecanic could find a way inside. Only your friend could."

She shook when I threw my fist in the wall.

I should have been more careful. More insisstant to let her stay where she could be safe. Ingram and all the others agreed that she'd be better suited to act as a scribe rather than a knight. But she didn't want to act as such.

 

Not when she saw her.

 

After the revival, Sol did anything she could to avoid going back to our base. Always had exuses ready to dawdle our time. Ghouls, farms needing purchase agreements, settelers having their families threatened.. I still remember the shock in her voice when we first saw our new project back at the airport.

That time when she was allowed the privilege to see Liberty Prime in all her glory for the very first time.

 

But it wasn't really the first time, was it?

 

 _"Incredible isn't he?"_ I had bragged with a wide smile as I looked up on the giant robot, as I marveled for the engineering.  _"Prewar technology at it's best."_

_"She.. It's a she.."_

But unlike so many others she hadn't gasped. She hadn't been shocked, surprised or even amazed. Unlike any other she had only looked, quiet and let her head nod from side to side.

Unlike all the others her gaze would point down instead of up.

_"Not again.."_

At the time I hadn't understood.

But I do now.

_"I won't let House's pet get in my way again."_

 

She had recognized 'Otto', the one who had her frozen all those years ago.

Because Otto had been a fellow student. From C.I.T.

Or rather.. From the  _Commonwealth Institute of Technology._

Not to mention, the _original_ forfathers and creators of the Institute.

 

_"Who were you? Before the war, I mean."_

_"Boring."_

 

Who was she, before the war?

Clearly someone else other than I knew.

But her expertice around techonology, robotics and knowledge about former Boston had beed needed. So I didn't question her as much as Rhys.

Her precence made everyone's morale better. Our hope only heightened as she walked the floors of the airship. To us, the others and especially to me she was an icon of what a true soldier, what our ideals should be resorted to. I couldn't feel more proud as a mentor and as a friend to see her rise in rank. I took great pleassure in seeing one of my own recruits show off what the people from the wasteland was cabable off. What we're made off.

It was not like so many of the lesser grades thought ; through fucking.

It was because she bled and fought for us. Because she cared. Because she used her resolve. Because I believed in her. And I truly did believe that she believed in us.

In _me_.

Until I found her, kicking the door to one of the airports room bathroom stalls. Where she silently screamed, without her mask on.

Where she stared up, bloodshot.

 

She is human. A human that made faults like any other. But just as with Arthur people didn't see that. They saw the true ideal of where and how a soldier should strive to achieve.

When Arthur was but a boy he had been weeping next to my arm, seeking comfort. And just as the rest I had pushed him to think like a soldier. Walk like a soldier. Eat, drink. Sleep.

Act.

Because just as the rest I had motivated him to think that he was born in steel. That steel ran through his veins like that of his forefathers. With the Lyons in charge no one knew what our foundation had been. Who our creator had been.

What our purpose had been.

 

The other two nearly jumped two meters high when my fist found the wall.

I had been fuiling the anger and hatred for my kind in the Elder.

"Danse.."

"I get it, already. Just leave me, synth."

 

Her hand found my cheek again.

 

"Wow wow wow! Is that really--"

"Deacon, leave! I'll handle this!"

The guy in the glasses stared, looked at me, but then left while I looked up, feeling regret for causing her to frown like that.

"We're not human, Danse. But I still feel emotions. Just fucking calm down, 'aight?"

 

I know that we feel.

That we feel regret, sorrow. Pride..

_"This campaign will be costly and many lives will be lost. But in the end, **we** will be saving humankind from its worst enemy.. Itself._

_Ad Victoriam!"_

 

We.. Feel hope.

 

"I really am sorry about your friend, Danse. I know it's hard, but for now we'd better focus, not drink."

It took me a while before I answered, becase I hate being wrong. My eyes slowly went to the bottle I had in my hand and as it went into hers. "I know. It's just.. I just.."

"I know, too."

 

~~_'-II-'_~~

 

 

It became strangely quiet after that.

 

And for the most part, we just leaned against the wall, with her leaning towards my shoulder.

It felt as if we were ten years back, but this time we knew a heck of a lot more about one another. Or well, I knew more about me. VIctoria, she always knew.

"So, you knew, the whole time."

"I did."

"Why?"

"Why what?"

"Why did you.. I mean.. Did we flee together or.."

Here she caught her temples, frustrated by the looks of it. "Danse, now really ain't the time.."

"Oh? You're telling me there's better times revealing that you knew of my past? I guess I need to make an appoin--"

"Believe me, I had a long time figuring this out." She snarled. "I know this is hard for you. I shouldn't have come out as pushy. But when I.. When I found you here.. And when I found out what happened with Cutler I just lost it."

I frowned.

 

"Was Cutler a synth?"

 

"No." Here I suddenly heard how she snorted and I turned my head down, seeing her smile sadly. "He was a real, breathing scumbag." I couldn't help but to let out some air as I felt a smile grow on my own. She chuckled along with me. "And he was out friend. I sometimes really miss our little trio, back when."

_"Oi, ser knight! Get over here."_

 

As always, my mouht had been filled with food. But once I saw her smile almost everything left.

The moment when she had the small little soldier dancing in the air.

 

_"Did you make this?_

 

The first time I met Victoria I stood in the old, thrown-together stall, the one I sold metal and small things I tinkered together in. Sometimes father's would buy their kids the toys I made. Rocketships, little people. Had I told anyone on the Prydwen they would likely have laughed. Most wouldn't beleive I like art and to create things.

Especilly since I'm known for being a destroyer.

And as always my tounghe became thicker in my mouth. I had seen that girl before. She liked to talk with Cutler, alot. He'd always complain on how he never managed to charm her. That she seemed allergic to men.

_"I.. Yes."_

And she blinked, slowly as she picked up the little dog made from polished metal.

_"Who would have thought you would continue.."_

 

 

 

"I don't understand.. You knew all along?"

"How intelligent of you, sir knight. "She huffed, only to later give me a smug, one-sided grin as she went up and further inside the kitchen. I remember once thinking that smile as the most beautiful thing in the world. She seemed to think it still.

Now, as I saw her strut before me I felt disgust.

 

She went around the area, seemingly trying to understand everything about the scenery and its story. "About fifteen years ago, you supposedly fled from the Institute."

"I've gathered that already. Tell me what you know.. About the man I was before?"

"What's the point?" She laughed. "The old you is dead, M7-97."

It chilled my spine to hear her say that with such ease.

"Don't call me that!"

"Oh, right." She huffed once again. "Danse. But, tell me.. Wouldn't you rather be named something else, since that man is gone as well?"

My eyes turned dark as I looked forward. "No--"

"Because you seem to flee from everything. Your old life, your betrayal to the Brotherhood.."

And here, fast as a flash her hand was around my throat.

 

"Cutler's death."

 

I stared. For a long time as her eyes remained in mine.

 

And then, the most curious laughter escaped her throat. "We had known one another back then, but you were.. Let's just say I was surprised to see you in Rivet City."

"Really?" I said as my brow furrowed even furhther.

"Can you blame me? You weren't exactly the fighting type back then. Skinny, hell.. You were afraid of violence!"

 

Red as a tomato I puched her to the side as I went forward. And I was glad to admit that Sol wasn't around to hear more of my.. Unpolished past. It was embarrassing enough to have it revisited inside my head, let alone recited for me. "Why would I remove my memory? Wouldn't it have been easier to stay away from them if I remained.. Well, had I remained 'me'?"

Her face became a bit tired by the looks of it. Slowly she slipped further inside the room, where the broken fridge stood. "I agree, but that's not the Railroad's way."

"Not their way?"

"Most synths live through hell, they tend to become.. Dangerous, even to themselves. Removing that peice of their past is like.. Removing a tumor. They get healthy, happy."

"You kill them!"

She sighed. "Some would say that. But please, enlighten me. Do you see anyone around to help them get over their personal issues? Any helthcentres like back before the war?"

I remained quiet.

It was true. Even if I hated to admit it. Because I know I'd rather stayed me than to be reborn like I have been. Better to stay me and remember, how to avoid, to know what I am. I know nothing now, and I feel stuiped for it.

"Thing is.." Her face became somber as she looked at me. "Truth is you've remained relatively the same person. Your personality hasn't been altered in any way."  She suddenly stiffened up. "Well, back when with Cutler."

 

_"I didn't kill you so that you could join those fucking maniacs, Danse!"_

 

No.

That was not the entirety of the truth.

That was just another sign that Victoria was lying, or rather, avoiding the question. Again. She'd always been good at it, one of the many reasons that I eventually tired from it and sent her through the exit.

"Fine, if that's how it's gonna be you can see yourself out."

 

Angered she went up from the floor, only to point me in the ribs.

 

"Don't you dare give me that! I bled for you! I killed--for you! You got no right to tell me--" And just as quickly, her mouth went shut as she snored out a curse throgh her clenched teeth. "I did what had to be done, damn the consequenses. Ambrosia wouldn't have liked to see what you've become."

I frowned. "Who the hell is Ambrosia?"

"Your mother."

My jaw dropped.

I had a mother?

"Not your real one, of course." She corrected quickly. "But, there was an old woman in the Institute. She always wanted a child. You used to clean her quarters and ended up spending a lot of time talking with her, playing board games, chess. You became the family she never had."

I instantly felt like spitting this old, probably dead, bat in the face. "Why? If they were so 'nice' to begin with, why did she even need my company?"

"She was sick. While the humans were busy following their projects you were willingly spending time with her. That's what you and I hated most about the Institute, how they ignored, even their own kind! It's all about projects and experiments, not the need of lives."

Then she looked back at me again.

"You wonder how you got out? Ambrosia is that reason, so hold some fucking respect."

"Why? I don't give a piss abou--"

Glorys fist found my face again.

"Don't you **DARE**!" Another hit. "Ambrosia was the best thing that happened to us! The only good thing!"

My fist went back.

And so it went on again. Me, trying to overcome Glory's hands, her, trying to reach my throat. We went from wall to wall, the floor, chairs broken.. And the old album, in the shelf, it looked just as damaged as before.

"What was so good about this woman anyway?! They're all the same!"

"Ambrosia wasn't! Most days you just stayed by her side, holding her hand so she wouldn't feel lonely!" She screamed as she threw another chair. I pushed it aside and let my hands find her shoulders. "She confided in you in a way like no other! About when they took Shaun and--"

 

Here she stopped and stared, as if she had said something she couldn't take back.

Which.. Was entierly true.

 

From the time they had taken Shaun, she had said.

 

And then I stared. I stared.

From below she stared, rosy red in her face.

And then the grip around Glory became strained.

She noticed and quickly tried to get away.

 

I really had been right in my earlier prediciment. 

I had been _weak_ \-- I had been **disgusting**! 

For I had consorted with the very woman who had taken the one we had spent almost a year looking for.

 

 

 I had _befriended_ the one who ruined my lovers life!

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I love Nick. He's the greatest. I'd love to have him as my childrens grandpa, he'd tell the best of stories. And Im certain that his assistant would be a great wife of his. But I can see the trouble behind such an relationship. It would be cruel towards them both in the end.

**Author's Note:**

> What I first had intended to be a short one-shot with my favorite paladin of the apocalyptic wasteland in Fallout 4.
> 
> I've never been a fan of movies/books/games surrounding the theme of AI, artificial intelligence. But seeing as the third gen mostly are human, I thought he felt a whole lot less mundane than that of his brothers and sisters. It is a difficult subject, one many fails with. I wont go into details why I think so, but I was blown away with Nick Valentine, Curie, Codsworth and Danse.
> 
> As you most certainly have noticed, I made my Sole Survivor younger so that I better could relate with her. She's born 2054, and her husband Nate 52.
> 
> I'm swedish, and may therefore have made grammatical mistakes. Please don't be afraid to correct me. Thank you for reading.


End file.
